


Oops

by Pasta_Muffin, scarletmanuka



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: 69ing, Anal Sex, Anal Sex Etiquette, Blow Jobs in Transit, Blowjobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff, Hogswatch, It got sappy, Jealousy, Knock first, M/M, Magical Expanding Bed, Office Sex, Polyamory Negotiations, Public Hand Jobs, Rufus is an Impatient Git, Rufus is not pleased, Scary Commander, The Bottoming, Threesome - M/M/M, Vetinari and Vimes in disguise, Vetinari likes to watch, Vetinari will never look at the conference table the same way again, Vimes has a bad day, Voyeurism, Werewolves being nosy, Werewolves know when you're getting some, bath time fun, little bit of D/s, narrative causality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-18
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-08-09 13:13:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 31,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7803304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pasta_Muffin/pseuds/Pasta_Muffin, https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarletmanuka/pseuds/scarletmanuka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vimes learns that kicking down locked doors in the middle of the night can lead to an eyeful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Behind Closed Doors

Commander Sam Vimes would be lying if he said he’d never been this angry before. In fact, he could easily remember at least ten incidents and occasions when he’d been more...well full of rage was the only thing he could really call it. Carcer, for one. That man had been an incident all by himself. 

This, though...it was definitely up there. Vetinari had fallen ill with some sort of chest infection, something about sitting in a draughty, freezing office in the middle of what  _ had _ to be the coldest winter in living memory. (No matter what that newspaper editor said. Anyway, that article had been an opinion piece, and opinions weren’t facts.)

Vetinari had been ill long enough that Rust had managed to convince the guilds to “give the man a little holiday”: Forced bed rest. Not that Vimes really disagreed,  _ in principle _ , since Vetinari was the type who’d still be filling out paperwork from inside the casket, and double pneumonia was such a  _ nasty  _ thing. 

No, the problem was with who was standing in for the Patrician. Rust was too old, too close to senile, Drumknott wasn’t...well, he was Drumknott, and Lipwig had quickly gone on leave with that wife of his.  _ Skipped town, more like _ , Vimes thought. It was rather uncharitable, but hardly far from the truth. Lipwig  _ had _ saved those kids during that whole Iron Girder business, but that didn’t necessarily make him  _ trustworthy _ . The Guilds had come up with a solution: A council, just until poor, poor Vetinari was back at his best. Of course, since the same sickness had hit most of the Guild leaders, that meant that people like Mrs. Palm and Queen Molly were bed ridden. In fact, the only Guild leader  _ not _ ill was Downey. It was intolerable.

Downey, being of an ambitious bent, was itching to start a war. It didn’t matter who with, just so long as Ankh-Morpork got bigger as a result. Worse still, Vimes had the niggling, unpleasant sense that Vetinari had recovered weeks ago. He wasn’t sure why Vetinari would let Downey take over, even temporarily. Maybe he wanted to see what Downey would do, what would happen. Vetinari  _ did _ like to let people hang themselves on their own petard.  And so, Vimes shoved his way past the Palace guards, more or less storming his way to Vetinari’s office.  

It took him a moment, upon finding the room vacant, to recall where Vetinari’s bedroom was. It was well past midnight, yes, but this  _ was _ Vetinari, and Vimes was convinced the man was often up at the wrong side of dawn. Vimes, of course, remembered the way to Vetinari’s quarters because of that poisoning débâcle. Vetinari had been moved to a new room, under Cheery’s instructions, and had apparently decided to retain that room. 

The red mist, having descended some time ago (and being a near constant for the past week), meant that Vimes wasn’t much in the mood to knock. Instead, after finding the door locked, he kicked it open.

Vimes stopped dead. The red mist evaporated, and that was really a shame, because now Vimes had an unobstructed view of… Of what…  _ Oh gods _ . His eyes struggled to communicate with his brain, because of the sheer… 

So. Vimes had noticed, without really noticing, that Vetinari had been...well… He’d been spending more and more time with an increasingly small circle of his clerks. Trying to select a replacement for the disastrously unreliable Wonse. Eventually, Vetinari had settled on Drumknott. 

Nondescript was the best way to describe him. He wasn’t  _ bad _ looking, he just came off as the sort of person who cared about Punctuality and Sitting At The Front during their school days. Possibly because, otherwise, their teachers hadn’t noticed whether or not they were in the room. 

Again, nothing wrong with that, but Vimes had noticed that Drumknott had been hanging around a lot more. Not just at the Palace, though, but he’d started to be present when Vetinari deigned to leave his office. It didn’t  _ annoy _ Vimes, not at all, he just couldn’t help but notice it. 

This was a surprise, though. So. Vimes had been right: Vetinari and Drumknott  _ had _ gotten to be quite close. Actually, they were currently as physically close as it was possible to be. More specifically, Drumknott was currently on top of his boss. Okay. So he’d managed to process that much. Moving on. The two men spent most... _ well _ nearly all of their time together. That didn’t necessarily explain why they were naked. Or, frankly, and this was the main source of Vimes’ shock, why Drumknott was buried balls deep inside his boss. That seemed  _ wrong _ , somehow. Vimes had always thought, and he really didn’t want to admit that he’d given this so much consideration, that Vetinari would be on top. 

Vimes’ train of thought had taken some time, and the bed’s occupants, preoccupied as their otherwise were, had noticed Vimes’ presence. They paused, and Vetinari, flat on his back, peered around Drumknott. Only slightly flushed, despite the dick up his arse, Vetinari asked, calm, “Sir Samuel, don’t you think this could wait?” Vimes was a tad puzzled to find that he was annoyed that Vetinari could be so coherent, even during sex. 

The awkward pause extended further. Drumknott, who was significantly more pink-faced, turned ever so slightly. He stared at Vimes.

Vimes had heard a theory, that some Dwarves held, that all the Discworld was nothing more than a story, and that was why the erasure of words was such a sin. He knew, then, from having read those awful “novels” that got passed around the Watch Houses, that if this were a story, then narrative causality dictated that things would  _ somehow _ instantly work out. The result would be the third party’s inevitable and instant involvement in the unexpected sex scene. 

This did not happen. Instead, Vimes pointed a finger at them. “Muh,” was all he could manage.

Amused, Vetinari said, “Is there something wrong, Your Grace? I didn’t quite understand that.”

“Muh.” Vimes shook his head, as if this would somehow help. Then, after another attempt, he forced a few words out: “I’ll–I’ll come back.” Then, he hurried to add, “Tomorrow.” Vimes stumbled off, dragging the door closed.

*

Vetinari shifted, uncomfortable. “Rufus, please, do carry on.”

Drumknott, absolutely mortified, muttered something into his neck. Although he didn’t quite hear the words, he did manage to grasp their meaning from the context. 

“Rufus, stopping now won’t return the Commander’s ignorance or innocence.” He  didn’t want to embarrass Drumknott any further than the poor man already had been, but Vimes’ walking in on them… Well, it hadn’t exactly put Vetinari off. “Rufus,  _ please _ .”

A little reluctant at first, then increasingly enthusiastic, Drumknott acquiesced. 

*

It was only thanks to Vimes’ feet that he made it home at all. They had loyally read the cobbles, ascertained where they were, and after figuring out that the brain was presently very preoccupied with other thoughts, had taken it upon themselves to go home. Once there, they rallied the other troops, and between feet and hands, Vimes found himself undressed and climbing into bed. Sybil was already asleep, snoring softly. She was a warm and familiar presence, but that did nothing to calm him. Instead, he lay on his back, staring at the dark ceiling, his mind never stopping.

All traces of the earlier rage, and the Downey conundrum had vanished. Instead, the scene he had witnessed played over and over in his mind. He was frankly amazed at how vividly his mind had remembered it - almost as if there had been a little imp inside, furiously painting away so it could be recalled for all of eternity. He could see the scratch marks on Drumknott’s back, clearly made by those pale, delicate fingers. He recalled the way the clerk had been gripping Vetinari’s hips as he’d pounded away. And that movement had been causing other, more interesting things to happen, hadn’t it? Vimes had definitely seen a long, slender cock bouncing against the Patrician’s stomach. And when he’d been able to tear his eyes away from that particular scene, he’d noticed the look of total abandonment on the statuesque face. Gone was the cynical, icy glare, and in its place was pure lust, and passion.

Carefully, so as not to wake Sybil, Vimes climbed out of bed and crossed to the bathroom. He shut the door, and stood, breathing heavily in the cold room. His own cock was hard and aching, and he couldn’t understand why he was reacting in such a way. He wasn’t attracted to Vetinari, was he? The man drove him bonkers and half the time it was a struggle not to hold him down and punch him. His cock twitched violently at the thought of Vetinari pinned beneath him, and Vimes decided not to fight himself on this one. He reached down to take himself in hand, and began stroking. He tried to clear his mind, and to picture Sybil instead, but the traitorous images kept pushing to the forefront. His imagination, tired of being on the sidelines, decided to jump into play, and it was the image of thin lips wrapped around his own cock, whilst Drumknott took Vetinari from behind that had him spilling his release over his hand.

Feeling more confused than he ever had, Vimes cleaned himself up and returned to bed. He had expected that once he’d taken care of himself, he’d feel a bit dirty, and maybe shameful about the thoughts he’d had during his wank. Instead, he just wanted more. It was a long time before sleep finally claimed him.

*

Morning didn’t bring any clarity to Vimes’ chaotic thoughts. He knew he was too distracted to go into work, and decided to stay home for the morning. He’d been working almost nonstop the past few weeks so gods knew he deserved a break. He figured it was about time he did those repairs on the dragon coup he’d promised Sybil ages ago he’d do. 

He had a productive few hours, and not only finished reinforcing the walls of three of the pens, but he also ensured the assassin traps he’d set up were still functional. Although he’d been taken off the register, the senior teachers would often send the cockier students to his house to test them. None had passed so far, and he wanted it to remain that way. His hands hadn’t stopped all morning, but this then created the problem that his mind was free to wander of its own accord. For some reason, it wanted to not only wander along to the places it had visited last night, but to throw open the doors, and leap into the fray.

He was so caught up by his fantasies, that he didn’t see or hear Sybil until she was right beside him. He yelled, and dropped the hammer, which bounced painfully off his foot. 

“Sam, whatever is the matter? You’ve been jumpy all morning.” She put down the plate with a sandwich on it and took his arm.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m fine.”

She gave him a steady look. “Samuel Vimes, you might be able to fool others but you can’t fool me. I’m your wife, and I know you almost better than you know yourself. Does this have anything to do with your meeting with Havelock last night?”

“What? Why, what did you hear? What makes you think this has anything to do with that at all? Because really, nothing happened and it was just a run of the mill meeting, and everything is hunky dory, nothing at all happened, it was all A-okay, yep, just your regular meeting, in which nothing out of the ordinary happened at all.” She continued to look at him, and he began to wither under her stare. Finally he sighed, knowing it was pointless to try and keep something like this from her. “Fine, something happened.”

“Come on, dear. Come inside and sit by the fire where it’s warm and you can tell me all about it.”

He followed Sybil inside to the Slightly Pink Drawing Room and they sat in the comfortable chairs in front of the fireplace. She patted his knee. “Okay, Sam, what’s going on?”

“Well, as you know I went to see Vetinari last night because I wanted to know what on the disc was going on with Downey. It was late, but I figured that he’d still be awake, since you know, he’s  _ him _ .” Sybil gave him a look that said she already knew all of this and could you please hurry up and get to the reason why you’re acting like a frog dropped into boiling water. “Well, he wasn’t in his office, so I thought I’d find him in his bedroom.”

“A remarkable deduction given it was after midnight.” 

He coughed. “Yes, well,  _ as I was saying _ , when I got there the door was locked. I was in a bit of a mood, and so I might have, kind of, accidentally kicked the door in.”

“Really, Sam, how can one  _ accidentally  _ kick a door in? You’re not Detritus.”

“ _ Anyway _ , once I was in the room, I saw something that I was not expecting to see. It’s kind of thrown me, I guess.”

“You kicked in a locked bedroom door, in the middle of the night, and were surprised by what was behind it? Honestly, Sam, sometimes you’re as thick as two bricks. People generally lock doors for a reason, for when they’re wanting privacy for example.”

“You’re really not making me want to tell you any more,” he said, a bit crossly. 

“Sorry, dear.” She gave his knee another pat. “I’m going to assume that you saw Havelock involved in an  _ intimate _ activity.”

“Yes! With  _ Drumknott _ !”

“Who else would it have been with?” she asked, sounding confused.

“Wait, what? Did you know about this?”

“Of course I did, Sam.”

“Why didn't you tell me?”

“Because Havelock took me into his confidence. It wouldn’t do to then go blabbing about it.”

“But it’s not blabbing if it’s to  _ me _ .”

That piercing look was back, and it was so similar to the one that Vetinari gave him that Vimes knew it had to be something that every nob was taught. “Would you be happy if I discussed the details of our love making with him?”

Vimes spluttered. “Of course I bloody well wouldn’t be!”

“Then why would you expect me to break his confidence? My word is my word, Sam, it doesn’t matter who I’ve given it to.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Enough about that. So, you saw Havelock and Rufus together in the bedroom. I know you didn’t have a private school education and so most likely didn’t go through the experimentation phase, but I rather thought you’d be more open minded than this. I didn't expect you to be so put out at the thought of two men together.”

“It’s not that at all!” he said, rubbing at his eyes. He slumped back in his chair. “It’s the complete opposite.”

“Oh.  _ Oh _ !” Sybil leaned forward and took his hand in hers. “So you found it rather exciting?”

“That’s an understatement. I don’t think my dick has been this hard so much since I was a teenager.”

“There’s no need to be crass,” she said, but her eyes had a hungry look in them. “Is this something that you would like to...pursue?”

“What do you mean? In case you haven’t noticed, you’re my wife, and we’re married.”

“Oh, Sam, you’re still so innocent when it comes to things like this.”

“Innocent? I’m  _ not _ innocent!” 

She laughed. “Yes, dear, you are. But that’s okay. It’s nice to be the one educating you, instead of the other way round. Just because we’re married, it doesn’t mean that we have to be monogamous.”

“I’m not going to cheat on you,” Vimes said gruffly. He was feeling very out of his depth having this conversation with Sybil, and he didn’t like not being in control of the situation.

“It wouldn’t be cheating, dear. Many happily married couples involve other people in their relationship. As long as you’re honest about it, then it’s not cheating. I’m more than happy if you want to become involved with Havelock and Rufus.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “But why? What do you get out of it? How could you be pleased about your husband sleeping with other people?”

“Because I want you to be happy, Sam. It’s as simple as that.”

He struggled with the concept, but knew that Sybil would not have said it if she didn’t mean it. She was honest to a fault. His shoulders slumped when he thought of another obstacle. “It’s all well and good for you to give me permission,” he said, “But I think we’re forgetting that there are other people involved in this scenario.”

She gave a little tinkle of a laugh. “I don’t think that will be a problem. He’s never said as much, but I’ve always known that Havelock had a soft spot for you. I think he’d be  _ very _ open to the suggestion, and I doubt it would take much for him to convince Rufus.” She gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Why don’t you run along up to the palace? The sooner you talk to him, the less likely you’ll talk yourself out of it. But Sam?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I want to hear  _ all _ about it when you get home.”


	2. Anal Sex Etiquette

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Negotions, and smut. Downey makes a fool of himself.

       For the first time in months, Rufus Drumknott had retreated to his private office. Vetinari was hardly puzzled by this change in Rufus’ behaviour, considering what had happened last night, but… He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little...well, not quite hurt. Disappointed, maybe. Rufus hadn’t been exactly avoiding Vetinari (their day jobs made this quite impossible), but his behaviour had been verging on non-committal.

       That was odd: Rufus was a very private person, and far from expressive when dealing with most people, but he’d been downright chatty, during the past few months. He’d even been friendly toward Lipwig, although that had been, admittedly, because Rufus had wanted to unnerve the man just a little. (Rufus possessed a very odd sense of humour.)

       Rufus was happy to allow people to boil his entire personality down to the singular dedication he applied to his work. When Vetinari had asked him about this, Drumknott had told him that he preferred to keep things separate, to compartmentalise the various parts of his life. He’d said that multitasking rarely worked, and really just meant dividing one’s attention so that nothing was accomplished at all. Of course, this had presented a massive challenge when Vetinari had begun to pursue him romantically.

       Now, however, Rufus’ interactions with Vetinari were starkly different from those Rufus shared with just about anyone else. Having him retreat back into himself was immensely frustrating. Especially since it had taken so much time and effort on Vetinari’s part to get the man to trust him.

       Vetinari wasn’t back at work yet, not strictly speaking, so he had time on his hands. Normally, this would not present a problem. In the days before his and Rufus’ romantic entanglement, he would read, look over old reports, maybe even (if it was close enough to nightfall) do a little urban reconnaissance. Now, though, all he could think about was Vimes barging in on them.

       The absolute worst thing about that was how little Vetinari’s enthusiasm had flagged after that (not quite) unwelcome intrusion. He was painfully aware, however, that Rufus had been absolutely mortified by having a third party see him in such a state. Vetinari had no idea how to broach the topic with Rufus, and the more he realised he shouldn’t, the more Vetinari wanted to.

       Something told Vetinari that Narrative Causality had more or less demanded Vimes’ inclusion in...what had happened last night. That obviously had not happened. (Vetinari was far from being a prude, he just found his usually expansive vocabulary deserting him while he was following certain, specific trains of thought. It was highly inconvenient.)

       Vetinari was having trouble finding the appropriate words because all he could currently think of was Vimes crawling over the narrow bed and holding him down, while Rufus… Vetinari forced calm upon himself, He did not want to be found wandering the corridors of the Palace in that sort of state.

       He found his feet guiding him toward Rufus’ private office. Rufus, who always seemed to know where he was (which was part of the attraction, really), opened the door before Vetinari could raise a hand to knock.

       “Sir? May I help you?” he asked. It was the quiet, slightly mechanical tone he used while talking to Guild Leaders and aristocrats. Vetinari didn’t like it; it was far too deferential.

       “May I come in?”

       Rufus blinked, a tad owlish, and seemed to realise that they were standing, rather awkwardly, in the doorway. “Of course.” He stepped aside.

       It was a tiny office, a former filing room, really. Green-walled and softly carpeted, it was just large enough to hold a small desk and two chairs. Filing cabinets lined the back wall, and nearly crowded the other furniture out into the corridor. There was a single painting on the back wall, an ugly depiction of a huge, square dog. This wall backed onto the Oblong Office.

       Rufus closed the door behind them, while Vetinari removed the painting from the wall. It afforded any eavesdropper the ability to hear, if not see, any conversations carried out in the Oblong Office. It was how Rufus knew when he was needed: He was always present during work hours, even if not always visibly so.

       They made themselves as comfortable as was possible in such a cramped room, and listened to Downey blunder his way through a meeting with De Worde. Vetinari smiled, replaced the picture, and said, “How long do you think?”

       “Until he’s made such a fool of himself that the idea of him ever succeeding you becomes laughable?” Drumknott said. He made a considering noise. “Give it an hour–that printing press is very fast.” He smiled, approving.

       There was silence, then. Normally, they were both comfortable with silence, but this one… “Rufus...” Vetinari didn’t quite know how to put it into words. How on the disc should he tell Rufus that he maybe wanted to involve (include, even) Vimes in their relationship? Not much, just a little...once. Being frank was something Vetinari was quite ill-suited to, so saying “It’s sort of a fantasy of mine to have sex with both you and Vimes” seemed like the wrong way to go. Other, alternate phrases, like “So, how do you feel about a threesome?” seemed equally as ill conceived.

       Instead, he settled for, “Are you alright?” Vetinari had always thought this to be an incredibly stupid question: Surely, if someone experienced enough doubt that they felt the need to ask someone else if they were all right, then the answer was “no”.

       Rufus fidgeted. This, too, was worrying. Ordinarily, he was not a fidgeter. He looked at Vetinari, and managed to simultaneously look him in the eyes and avoid direct eye contact. (It was a rare talent, mostly possessed by clerks and university students.) “Um… There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

       “Of course, what is it?” Vetinari asked, as gentle as he could manage. Internally, he was panicking ever so slightly. _Oh, gods, he’s going to resign_.

       “It’s about last night...” Drumknott was fiddling with the fraying edge of his handkerchief. (His sister had given it to him, some years ago, and Drumknott was loathe to part with things that had once been gifts.) He was completely red in the face, now.

       “I’ll instruct him to forget what he saw, and remind him about the significance of a locked door.” Vetinari didn’t have to fight to keep the disappointment out of his voice; years of practice had made it depressingly easy.

       Rufus blinked again. “Pardon?”

       Vetinari frowned. It was a rare thing for Rufus to mishear him, even when he’d been sick and outright hallucinating. “I said I’ll tell him the importance of keeping to business hours.” Vetinari was, he had to admit, not the sort of person who took other people’s schedules into account while making appointments for them. This was because he already knew what they were doing, and where they were, he was merely informing them that he was prepared to deal with them outside the Tanty, if he must. Business hours didn’t really come into it, but, since Vetinari had been off sick…

       There was another pause. “...Why?”

       Frowning again, Vetinari said, “Do...you have an objection to my disciplining him?”

       Rufus went completely red, then. “No, not at all.”

       “...I get the feeling that we’re having two conversations that are only tangentially related.” He raised an eyebrow, but the expression was more quizzical than remonstrating.

       Rufus visibly swallowed. “I...um...I have to admit that when Sir Samuel...um… When he barged in, the idea of him watching us...”

       It was Vetinari’s turn to blink. Rufus was one of those rare people who had the ability to surprise him, and he’d managed it just then: Vetinari had thought that Rufus had gone red, last night, because he’d been embarrassed. That was evidently not the case. “You enjoyed it,” he said. It was a statement of fact, not a question.

       Rufus finally met his gaze. He seemed to misinterpret Vetinari’s reaction, because he hastened to say, “I… I didn’t know how to tell you, and I’m sorry if it disgusts you and you want me to leave.” He quickly pulled a sheaf of papers out of a desk drawer. “This is my resignation, and–”

       Vetinari held up a hand. “Stop.”

       Confused, Rufus did.

       “I understand that you have...misgivings about our relationship, and that you don’t want to risk compromising my career, should someone find out about us.”

       “Because it’s still illegal!”

       “Technically, and not for much longer.” Vetinari sighed. He subjected Rufus to the same, careful scrutiny he used when assessing his political opponents. Rufus was embarrassed, ashamed even, and he wore the expression of someone who was both desperate and utterly terrified. “I do not want to leave you, and...” He had to force the words out, because he really couldn’t afford this misunderstanding to get any further out of control. “...And, I was hardly...put off by Vimes’ seeing us,” he finished, rather lamely he thought.

       Rufus stared at him, again. “What? I thought you were angry about it?”

       “I am, and I am not. I was mostly concerned for you.” _You can be so shy about personal matters_.

       The entire cast of Rufus’ face changed, then. “Really,” he said, and on anyone else, that smile would have been a leer. “Do you think we should have a word with him about it?”

       Vetinari frowned. “I doubt he’d want to.”

       Beside the painting, and very nearly out of sight, was a small cork board, covered in silver bells. Each bell was attached to a length of string, which snaked their way out of sight, up into the ceiling. This was Rufus’ early warning system. It was linked to the little security system Vetinari had had set up, in case of inconvenient assassination attempts. These bells ran along the corridors, concealed under dusty old rugs. Stepping on the rugs yanked the string, which rang the bells, and each bell corresponded to a specific corridor. The Palace had myriad entrances and exits, and each visitor had their own favourite way of entering the place.

       One of the bells let out a discordant jangle, now. It belonged to the corridor that Vimes always used when he wanted to avoid the Palace guards. Only Vimes used that corridor this early in the week.

       Vetinari and Rufus exchanged a look.

       Rufus said, soft, “Unless I’m very much mistaken, I think he does.”

*

       Vimes moved discreetly along the corridor, hoping to avoid seeing anyone else. In his head, a battle was being waged, and at the moment it could go either way. Before he’d arrived, Jumping in Feet First had the upper hand, but then Running Away As Quickly as Possible won a small advantage. Now, they seemed to be at a stalemate, and it was anyone’s guess as to who would prevail.

       He must be mad. There was no other explanation for why he was on his way to see his boss about the possibility of joining in his _sexcapades_ with his secretary. And really, just how does one begin that conversation? _Terribly sorry that I barged in on your prostate exam last night, old chap. Mind if I have a look myself to ensure everything’s okay?_ Somewhere in the universe, there would be a betting pool on the outcome and he himself would place money on his getting punched on the nose.

       His steps had faltered as the internal debate raged on, and without realising it, he had come to a complete stop in the middle of the corridor, his eyes lost in thought. That was how Drumknott found him, not long afterwards.

       “Sir Samuel?” the clerk had said, repeatedly, until Vimes’ attention had snapped back to reality.

       “Ah, Drumknott. Erm, I was hoping to maybe see Vetinari. And, er, also yourself. Erm, if you both have time that is…” Jumping in Feet First snatched a tactical advantage.

       “Certainly, Your Grace. We were hoping you would come.” The clerk’s cheeks were rather pink, but his voice was composed as per usual.

       “You were?”

       Drumknott didn't respond, but gave him a small smile and then led him towards Vetinari’s bedroom. As he was shown in, Vimes noticed that the latch had already been repaired.

       Vetinari was sitting in an armchair in front of the fire, and he looked up when they entered. “Ah, Sir Samuel. So good of you to come. And thank you for waiting for the door to open this time.”

       Vimes felt himself flush at the reprimand. “That’s mostly why I came, sir - to apologise to you both for my behaviour last night. I’m very sorry that I intruded upon your privacy.” Running Away As Quickly As Possible had circled around and was now pressing in from three sides.

       “Is that the only reason you came?”

       “Erm...no?”

       Vetinari gave him a look that could only be described as gentle. “Why don’t you have a seat? I think we all have a lot to talk about.”

       Vimes sat himself in the other armchair, and to his surprise, Drumknott sat himself on the rug at Vetinari’s feet, and leaned his head back against the long legs. Vetinari carded his hands through the curls almost absently, and Vimes knew that he was somehow privileged to be allowed a glimpse at such casual affection. Reinforcements had arrived and Jumping in Feet First was rallying.

      “Obviously last night you witnessed something that has been kept a closely guarded secret for quite some time,” Vetinari began. “Can we assume that you will keep it to yourself? Sybil aside, of course, as she is already aware.”

       Vimes nodded his agreement, but didn’t speak. This seemed to be a test of some kind, and he wanted them to be assured that he would be discreet.

       “Rufus and I - really, don’t look so surprised, _of course_ we’re on a first name basis by now - were somewhat taken aback by your intrusion last night. It was unexpected, and perhaps even a little alarming. You are now aware of facts about us that could be career ending for both of us. And of course there was embarrassment at being found in such an intimate entanglement. After discussing it today however, we have come to the conclusion that neither of us were as upset by the situation as we had the right to be. In fact, both of us found it rather.. _.intriguing_.”

       “Havelock isn’t the best at getting to the point,” Drumknott added, looking up at his lover with a smile. “What he’s trying to say is, if you’re interested, we’d like you to join us. In bed.”

       Vimes nodded again. This was going better than expected. In fact, it was going as well as it could possibly have gone - he hadn’t had to initiate the conversation at all. Jumping in Feet First had taken victory. For some reason though, his tongue didn’t seem to want to cooperate. He found himself unable to speak at all.

       “Really, Rufus, I’m sure the Commander would have surmised that.”

       “Best to make sure we’re being clear, especially when it comes to matters such as these. It prevents misunderstandings down the track.”

       “Of course, you’re right as usual. You have such a mind, dear.”

       “I learned from the best.”

       They both turned their attention back to Vimes. “Was that nod before to acknowledge that you understood the statement, or that you wish to participate?”

       Drumknott rolled his eyes, and Vimes marvelled at how different he was in private compared to when he was in secretary mode. “Meaning, would you like to have sex with us?”

       Vimes’ eyes bulged, and he swallowed hard. “Erm…” he began, trying to make his mouth form words. He licked at his dry lips, and tried again. “Yes. Yes, very much so,” he managed.

       “Splendid!” Vetinari exclaimed. Drumknott grinned, and Vimes could suddenly see what the Patrician saw in his clerk. When he wasn’t trying to be as nondescript as possible, the young man was actually very handsome.

       “How will this work?” Vimes asked, not at all sure how they proceeded from here.

       “Do you have anything pressing to attend to immediately?” Vetinari asked.

       “Not really.”

       “Well then, shall we go to bed?”

*

       Vimes hesitated. “You didn’t...” He shook his head.

       Vetinari’s expression was considering. “No, I suppose we didn’t answer your question.” He grinned, slow and very nearly impish. “Rufus, shall we teach him?”

       Drumknott laughed, angling his head so he could peer up at Vetinari. Vimes couldn’t help but notice (not that he was particularly looking, of course) that Drumknott had a very nice throat. “Show and tell?”

       “...I prefer a hands on approach, but I suppose we have to start somewhere, don’t we?”

       Drumknott’s answering smile was downright wicked. He reached up and grasped one of Vetinari’s hands. Vetinari gave him a questioning look, but Drumknott, still smiling, brought Vetinari’s hand down to his mouth.

       Watching Vimes out of the corner of his eye, Drumknott made a show of licking each finger, bottom to tip. Then, getting rather more absorbed in what he was doing, he took all four fingers (minus the thumb) into his mouth and began to suck. Vetinari groaned and his other hand visibly tightened in Drumknott’s hair.

       There was a strange lapse in time, possibly due to Vimes becoming utterly engrossed in watching them, because he was suddenly aware of them both watching him. “Wha–what?” he managed, blinking.

       “I said,” Vetinari said, with an almost annoying level of patience, considering the tent he was pitching, “are you just going to sit there and watch, or do you want a higher level of involvement?” Now, that was annoying, that ability to remain that coherent while Drumknott was all but nuzzling his crotch. Vetinari being Vetinari, the man could probably do the crossword while getting a blow job. The man’s orgasm face was probably just a raised eyebrow. Vimes couldn’t suppress a laugh at that thought, then stopped when he realised what the implications would be if that were true: All those times he’s used that expression, over the years...

       Vetinari did arch an eyebrow, then, and Vimes just laughed harder.

       “Are you quite all right?” Vetinari sounded irritated. Or, more precisely, he sounded confused, and that was making him irritated.

       Vimes shook his head. “Fine, fine.” Then, and this took more effort than he’d ever admit to, he added, “Bed?”

       This room was rather larger than Vetinari’s original bedroom, although it was just as sparsely decorated. Vimes, when he finally got around to acknowledging the layout of the rest of the room, regarded the bed with some scepticism. “Isn’t it a bit...narrow?”

       Drumknott, resting his head against Vetinari’s thigh, laughed. “That’s a little unimaginative of you, Your Grace.”

       Vimes bristled at being called “Your Grace”, especially given the current circumstances, but… The idea of Drumknott being less formal didn’t seem right, and the notion of him using Vimes’ first name… Vimes let it go.

       Vetinari rose, as did Drumknott, with some reluctance. “You are aware that the Palace has always had an agreement with the University, yes?” He clicked his fingers, and the narrow single bed seemed bigger somehow. It didn’t take up any more space than before, but it still managed to be larger.

       Vimes made a face. He did not like magic.”How?”

       “Put it down to Quantum. Don’t worry, Sir Samuel, it’s perfectly safe.” He smiled, then, “In all the years I’ve had this bed, it’s only collapsed in on itself once.”

       “You are joking, right?” He had to stop himself from calling Vetinari “Sir”. Again, considering the context, doing so just seemed weird.

       Vetinari just smiled.

*

       It took some time for them to make themselves comfortable upon the newly expanded bed. Not because of clichés, such as how characters in such a situation usually can’t keep their hands off each other, because both Drumknott and Havelock were such practical people: Why waste time making out next to the bed, when you can just get on the damn thing and do it there? No, it was because of Vimes’ doubts about the bed, itself.

       Drumknott usually appreciated Havelock’s sense of humour. He agreed that it was far funnier to make a statement that a third party would find immensely worrying, and then not explain that it was merely a joke. In this case, however, Drumknott wished Havelock had just not.

       He sighed, sitting cross-legged and utterly naked upon the coverlet. Havelock, also naked, was stretched out beside him, watching Vimes in that quiet way of his. He seemed to be trying to assess whether or not Vimes would turn tail and run.

       Drumknott knew, of course, that Havelock, being honourable in his own, odd sort of way, would inform Lady Sybil of the finer points of this evening. Especially those finer points that Vimes would leave out. Vimes would be aware of this this, of course. He also would know that Lady Sybil would never let him live it down if she found out her husband had ran away because he’d been scared of the bed.

       It was Vimes’ turn to sigh. “Fine,” he said. Still looking immensely doubtful, he stripped and sat on the edge of the bed. Judging by his near-grimace, he was utterly convinced the thing was going to eat him.

       Literally behind his back, and out of his line on vision, Drumknott exchanged a quick look with Havelock. They’d slowly developed this sort of visual communication over     the years, usually as a way of saying “Please rescue me, this conversation is so boring”. This was not that sort of look.

       Havelock grinned, and moving with the sort of quiet swiftness that most people found disturbing, he moved behind Vimes. Vimes, who seemed to be utterly absorbed in one train of thought or another, flinched when Vetinari laid an open mouthed kiss upon his neck.

       Drumknott crawled over to them, and when Vimes turned around to squawk in surprise, he pressed a hand to the middle of Vimes’ chest. Vimes was, of course, far more physically strong than Drumknott, but Drumknott had the advantage of confidence. In this sort of situation, at least.

*

       Vimes found himself lying on his back, and he wasn’t quite sure how he’d got there. Of course, he knew. But still, how did his life do this to him? It was all Downey’s fault.

       Still, it wasn’t too bad. Drumknott was straddling his legs, doing something very interesting to his thigh, and Vetinari pulled him in for a deep, almost frantic kiss. Again, not too bad.

      They seemed to have come to some silent, mutual agreement to concentrate their attention on him, rather than on each other, because they kept exchanging what Vimes could only call looks. He’d figured out by now that they liked to work together to confound people, partially because their jobs made it necessary, and partly for the sheer fun of it. They were doing it to him, now, using signals rather than words, because that would ruin the fun somehow.

       Drumknott looked up at Vetinari, apparently asking him for permission or guidance, because Vetinari nodded. “Just tell us if you want us to stop,” Drumknott said, now speaking to Vimes. Vimes didn’t manage an actual reply, because Drumknott then decided to lick a stripe up his dick.

       Grinning at Vimes’ reaction, Drumknott took him into his mouth. Vimes had no idea how long the two of them had been together, and he’d have to ask about it later, because Drumknott seemed to be very well practised, indeed. He deep throated Vimes, holding his hips down with a level of strength Vimes had not thought him capable of. Drumknott swallowed around him, and Vimes wanted so badly to buck up into his mouth.

       Vetinari, on the other hand, had decided to focus his attention on Vimes’ chest. He traced his way along old scars, licking and pinching. He grinned in a very self-satisfied sort of way, and started sucking on his throat again.

       Vimes groaned, frustrated, and said, “Please,” but he had no idea what he wanted. He wriggled his hips, because that was as much as he could manage. Drumknott was surprisingly strong. Vimes wondered how that had happened.

       He was struck by a sudden mental image of Drumknott doing the same thing to Vetinari, holding the Patrician down while sucking on him. Licking just under the crown, maybe, or sucking on the head… Vimes nearly came just then, but he was rudely interrupted: Vetinari, who had decided to ignore Vimes’ nipples for the time being, softly suggested that Vimes make himself comfortable a little further up the bed.

       Drumknott pouted a little, reluctant to stop, but he sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Vimes was in complete agreement with him on this. He’d been so close.

       “What do you want to do, Your Grace?” He seemed unused to taking direction, at least in bed, and Vimes pointed this out.

       Drumknott shrugged eloquently. “It’s only polite. You are our guest, after all.”

       “I don’t know, I’ve never done this, before.” Vimes tried to keep his voice level. It was not a particularly successful attempt. “More, I guess?”

       Vetinari and Drumknott shared another significant look. Then, apparently coming to a decision, Vetinari slid off the bed, onto his feet. He crossed the room, and rifled through a drawer in the battered little dresser by the door. Vimes had to marvel at how nonchalant the man could be when he was that hard. He returned after a moment, holding a bottle of what looked like lotion.

       Drumknott gave him a curious look, and Vetinari said, “We’re running out of lube.”

       “Aah. I’ll buy some tomorrow. This’ll do, I s’pose.”

       Vimes had the abrupt mental image of Drumknott going to one of those seedy little stores on Tenth Egg and one of those little bottles in brown paper. He’d probably be utterly straight-faced about it, and claim it was serious Palace business. He didn’t even bother to suppress the rising bubble of laughter.

       Vetinari climbed back onto the bed and knelt beside Drumknott, who automatically stretched out on his back.

       Realising what was going to happen, Vimes said to Vetinari, “I thought you were on the bottom.” He immediately regretted saying it, mostly because of how stupid it sounded.

       “Yes,” Vetinari said, putting a pillow under Drumknott’s hips, “last time. We take turns. It’s more democratic.”

       “I thought you hated democracy.”

       “Only where politics are concerned.”

       Vetinari squirted some lotion into the palm of one hand, and started to coat the fingers of his other hand. Vimes watched as Vetinari carefully fingered Drumknott open. He was as meticulous and efficient in his movements as ever, but he was gentle. It was odd, Vimes had never thought Vetinari was capable of being gentle. Or, rather, Vimes, if asked, would have expressed severe doubt that Vetinari was the sort who’d bother with gentleness.

      This was apparently a regular occurrence, because a few minutes later, Vetinari pulled out his fingers and wiped them on a face washer he’d put up near the pillows, apparently for that purpose. “Are you alright?” he asked Drumknott, and Drumknott nodded, red-faced and impatient. Vetinari squirted more lotion into his hand, and applied it to himself this time. It was with the sort of ease that comes with abundant practice that Vetinari lined himself up with Drumknott’s hole and pushed himself in.

       Drumknott let out a long moan, his voice going a couple of octaves deeper than usual. They both turned to look at Vimes, then, apparently remembering he was there. Vimes had an uncomfortable flashback to the night before. Except, this was different, right? He’d been invited, this time.

       “It’s your turn, too Your Grace,” Drumknott gasped.

       Vimes, master linguist, said, “Huh?”

       Vetinari handed him the bottle of lotion, and said, “Do hurry up, Vimes. Rufus is being very patient.”

       Rendered silent by shock, Vimes positioned himself behind Vetinari. Was he really about to bugger the Patrician of Ankh-Morpork? Really? Apparently so, because Vetinari lifted his arse higher and spread his legs some more. As a result, Vetinari apparently pushed himself even further into Drumknott, who was all but clawing at Vetinari’s back by now.

       Vimes had done this, before, but only ever with women. (It was the best way of not getting a one night stand pregnant when Sonkies were out of your mutual price range.) It took him a moment to recall the proper way to go about this, but he was fortunate enough to have just had a rather excellent visual demonstration.

       Still a little dubious, Vimes slid a slid finger into Vetinari. The man was silent, but he tensed ever so slightly. Vimes soon added a second finger, and then a third.

       “Vimes,” Vetinari said, just a little strained, “put the damn thing in.”

       Vimes covered himself with the remaining lotion (he’d way overestimated how much he’d need), and wiped his hands on the same face washer Vetinari had used. Hoping he’d followed the correct anal sex etiquette so far, Vimes grabbed Vetinari’s hips and pushed in, more or less imitating what Vetinari had done to Drumknott.

       There was a moment’s pause, then Drumknott, shouted, “Oh, just move, already!”

       Vetinari buried his face in Drumknott’s neck, and started moving his hips in short, fast thrusts. Vimes, who was also pretty desperate by now, tried to follow the same pace. His knee began to bother him, so he shifted position slightly. That seemed to have a positive effect, because Vetinari, who’d been the most silent of the three so far, cried out. His knees buckled and he tried to straighten up, but Drumknott held him still.

       Drumknott shot Vimes a look that was pure, conspiratorial evil. But in, you know, a good way. “Keep doing that,” he said. He held Vetinari up, while Vimes tried to reproduce whatever he’d done to elicit that response from Vetinari. Every push from Vimes shoved Vetinari further into Drumknott, who surprised Vimes by pulling him into a kiss.

       Vetinari didn’t last too long after that, and let out a long, shuddering moan as he came, still buried inside Drumknott. Vimes pulled out after a moment, as did Vetinari, who rolled onto his side to catch his breath.

       “Please, don’t let me stop you,” he said to them, only slightly pink-cheeked.

       Drumknott grinned, then, eyes glittering. He pulled Vimes on top of him.

       Vimes, quickly understanding what he wanted, pushed into Drumknott. Drumknott wrapped his legs around Vimes’ waist and pushed his feet against Vimes’ arse. The movement reminded Vimes of how those sort of people who rode horses would spur the animal on, pushing their ankles into his flanks. Following Drumknott’s lead, Vimes shoved himself in as fast and hard as he could.

       Vetinari, who seemed to have a thing for necks, buried his face in Drumknott’s throat, while Vimes sped up his movements. Vetinari bit down, just hard enough to break the skin, and Drumknott came. Everything was suddenly so much more tight, and Vimes managed to hold on for a whole five seconds.

Vimes was distantly aware of Vetinari nudging his shoulder, and Vimes extricated himself from Drumknott, mumbling something incoherent. Time moved with that peculiar, molasses slowness that goes hand in hand with the feeling of dozing off.

Vetinari positioned himself between them, and Drumknott curled against him. Vimes shifted closer, and draping his arm over Vetinari’s hip, he pressed his face against the man’s back. Someone blew out the candles, and someone pulled a blanket over them. Vimes had no idea who, because he soon fell into an exhausted sleep.

*


	3. Peppermint

       They woke from their nap a couple of hours before midnight, and with an air of routine, Drumknott filled the large tub in the bathroom, and Vetinari tidied up, and then they ushered Vimes into the tiled room. They were all rather sticky and that just wouldn’t do. The tub wasn’t quite big enough for all three of them, but it fit two comfortably. Vetinari climbed in, and the young clerk gestured for Vimes to join him. He stepped into the gloriously warm water, and was pulled down so he was sitting between long, pale legs with his back against Vetinari’s chest. He closed his eyes and relaxed back, feeling exhausted, but in a very satisfied way.

       He could hear Drumknott moving around, and the clinking of bottles, and a moment later he felt a warm cloth on him. He opened his eyes and watched as the man reverently ran the soapy cloth up and down his arm. He felt Vetinari shift slightly behind him, and then strong fingers were rubbing shampoo into his hair and massaging his scalp. It was pure bliss and Vimes couldn’t hold back a moan.

       Drumknott raised up on his knees so he could reach across to wash the other arm. His neck was directly in front of Vimes’ face, who leaned forward and nipped at the skin there, right over the mark that Vetinari had left only hours before, then pressed a kiss to soothe the spot. He continued to kiss and lick at the delicate throat, before Drumknott shifted so his face was in front of him. They shared a deep kiss, their tongues dancing together, and Vimes found himself getting harder the longer it went on. Drumknott trailed the cloth down his chest, soaping up the skin there, before his hand dipped beneath the water. Vimes gasped as the hand grasped his cock, but it was swallowed by Drumknott’s hungry mouth. Vetinari’s hands had moved from his scalp, and were now tracing patterns on the skin of his back, but he was obviously enjoying the show - Vimes could feel him pressed against his lower back. He wiggled backwards a little so he could grind against the man, and he heard a low moan from the otherwise silent Patrician.

       “Let’s get you rinsed off,” Drumknott said softly, breaking the kiss. He scooped water into a bowl and poured it over Vimes’ chest and shoulder, washing away the suds, his other hand still stroking the cock that bobbed beneath the surface. His head was tilted back, and his hair was washed clean, and then Drumknott motioned for him to stand. “I need you to turn around for what I have in mind.”

       Vimes did as instructed, and sat back down in the water, now facing Vetinari, their legs linked together. Their position had brought their cocks next to each other, and they bobbed against one another as the water settled. Drumknott pulled Vetinari in for a kiss, and then leaned over to kiss Vimes. As he did so, he reached into the water and took hold of both men’s cocks. There was a synchronised moan, and Drumknott sat back with a rather cheeky grin on his face. “You do know it’s rather exhilarating to be jerking off the two most powerful men in the city,” he told them, both hands in constant motion.

       “Gods, that feels so bloody good,” Vimes muttered.

       Vetinari placed a hand behind Vimes’ neck and pulled him in close, and darted his tongue across his lips. Instead of kissing his mouth, he pressed kisses along his jaw, and nibbled on his ear. Vimes reached up with one hand and stroked at Drumknott’s curls, rubbing his thumb in circles, finding the delicate spot behind his ear that made the young clerk’s eyelashes flutter.

       Drumknott was just as talented with his hands as he was with his mouth. He made a small movement and soon both cocks were enveloped in one hand, and he used his free hand to grasp himself. The sensation was almost overwhelming for Vimes - the silky skin of his dick rubbing against Vetinari’s on one side, and the skin of the pen callused hand on the other. Drumknott added a small twist to his upwards strokes which caused the heads to catch against each other, and it was too much for Vimes. He cried out as he came, his whole body shuddering in pleasure. Drumknott released him before he became too sensitive, but continued to stroke both himself and Vetinari.

       Using his grip in Drumknott’s hair, he pulled the younger man towards him, and kissed him hard. Then he let go, and showed Vetinari the same courtesy, gripping his hands into the base of his hair and ravishing the mouth with his tongue. He felt the Patrician tense, and continued to kiss him through his orgasm. He then slumped backwards against the tub, breathing hard. Vetinari turned eyes with blown pupils towards Drumknott and beckoned him close with the crook of a finger. The clerk stood, bringing his crotch to face height. His cock was soon swallowed by thin lips, and Vimes watched in fascination as Vetinari demonstrated that he too was talented with his mouth. He took the entire length in, holding it there while Drumknott panted above him. He then began to move his head, bobbing up and down the shaft, holding onto Drumknott’s hips. The third time he deepthroated him, Drumknott cried out and Vetinari swallowed around him.

       They were quiet as they got out of the bath and began to towel off. Drumknott emptied the water, and then began to fill it again so he could bathe. Vimes went into the bedroom and found his clothes, and began to dress, hoping that Sybil wouldn’t be worried about the late hour. Once he was ready he went back into the bathroom, and found Vetinari now dressed in a black dressing gown, sitting on the edge of the tub. Drumknott was laying in the water, and they were talking quietly.

       “I should probably be getting home,” Vimes told them.

       Drumknott smiled up at him. “I do hope you enjoyed yourself as much as we did.”

       Vimes let out a bark of laughter. “Besides the fact that I doubt I’ll be able to walk tomorrow, and I’m as exhausted as if I’d just run ten miles, I thoroughly enjoyed myself.”

       “Glad to hear it,” Vetinari told him. He and Drumknott exchanged another of their looks, and the clerk gave a small nod of his head. “We hope that you’ll join us again some time?”

       “Soon.” Drumknott added.

       “Very soon,” Vetinari said.

       “In fact - what do you have on tomorrow?” Drumknott asked, looking hopeful.

       “I’m sure I can arrange something, though you might need to gentle with me. I’m not exactly young anymore.”

       “Don’t worry, Your Grace - we’ll take excellent care of you,” Drumknott assured him.

       “I’m sure you will.” He bent over the bath and brushed a quick kiss to both pairs of lips. “Goodnight, gentlemen.”

*

       “Sybil?” Sam called as he walked into the bedroom.

       “Sam! How did it go?” Sybil asked as she walked out of the dressing room, tying a knot in her dressing gown.

       Sam sat on the edge of the bed, unable to keep the stupid grin off his face. “It was good.”

       She stood in front of him with her hands on her hips. “Good? Good? Is that as descriptive as you’re going to get? Sam, I want to hear about everything!”

       “Erm, really? Everything?”

       “Yes, dear, in all it’s glorious detail.”

       “Well, Vetinari has a magical bed...it’s bigger than it looks. Kind of worried me for a bit.”

       She directed a withering glare at him. “Samuel Vimes, do I need to beat this information from you?”

       He blushed. “You know I’m not very good at this sort of thing, love. It’s embarrassing.”

       “Why on the Disc should you be embarrassed about it? Everyone was consenting adults. Everyone had fun. It’s a natural part of life.”

       He gave in, knowing that if he didn’t give her what she wanted, she would just get it from Vetinari, and that was much more embarrassing. “Fine. So after we’d discussed it, we all got naked and went to bed…”

*

 

       Captain Angua had the deep suspicion that something was _off_. At first, she’d thought it was merely because it was so close to the next full moon, that her PLT was making her notice things that weren’t actually happening. But...a combination of instinct and the odd, olfactory jab was telling her that there was something definitely _off_ about the way Commander Vimes was acting. 

       Again, at first she’d brushed it off as stress: Downey’s brief, if disastrous, stint as a caretaker Patrician had put Mister Vimes on edge. Well, if “on edge” was a nice way of saying “foaming at the mouth with rage”. But, then, Downey had humiliated himself by allowing De Worde to interview him, and that had been more or less sorted. Lord Vetinari had recovered from his illness, and had been attending to his duties for the past week. And that, Angua had thought, was that.

       It, however, had not been. He’d been...well, jumpy was the only word for it. Angua had thought it was related to Downey, maybe, or something Watch related. She’d been a little disheartened to realise that he’d been jumpy because of  _her_ . It had taken her an embarrassingly long time to realise that Mister Vimes as  _avoiding_ her. The worst thing was that Angua could not think why he should have cause to do so.

       Today marked the day when he could no longer do so: The bad winter had brought sickness, and this had meant people being forced to take time off work. Well, no one was forcing them, as such, they simply hadn’t been able to get their legs to cooperate when they’d woken up in the morning.

       Of course, this had lead to these bed ridden people being temporarily replaced by others, who were immune to chest infections. Such as golems and undead. Relations between the rest of the city and the not quite alive had been quite amicable, lately, but all it took was one unscrupulous factory owner, and things went sliding backwards.

       Mr John Bobbitt of Bobbitt and Sons had had the idea of replacing his staff with golems while said original staff were off sick. What had started out as a temporary measure had become rather more permanent, because Bobbitt had realised that while three humans and two dwarves made for a bakery, five golems made for a production line. He’d increased his small bakery’s output to industrial levels, and had managed to anger half the city.

       The other bakeries couldn’t compete, and so they were angry. The number of bread sales was making bread both too cheap and was devaluing the city’s currency, so Lipwig was angry; and Bobbitt wanted the golems to work non-stop for nothing, so the Golem Trust was angry. Angua had spoken to Adora Belle Dearheart earlier, and she’d looked like she wanted to ram one of her stiletto heels somewhere very tender, or else throttle the man.

       Worse, still, Bobbitt’s previous workforce were outraged by being fired while they were ill. They’d gathered around the factory, ready for a very small riot. However, one of the golems, the only free one (who was there to help out the other four), had a quiet talk to one of the previous staff members. So, now they were on the same side. Employees from the other bakeries had then arrived, and the small group had swelled into an angry mob.

       Bricks had been thrown, fires had been set (and then put out by the golems), and the Watch had been sent for. Mister Vimes had shown up, of course, as he usually did when the fine citizens of Ankh-Morpork decided to bring out the pitch forks (or whatever they could find this far from a farm).

       This had carried on all day, right on past nightfall, and Angua really wanted her shift to end. The full moon was  _so_ close...

       Vimes bumped into Angua, then, and when he saw it was her, he flinched.

       “Sir? Is everything all right?”

       He laughed, brittle. “Apart from the obvious? Yeah, fine, fine.”

        Angua had noticed, then, that something other than his behaviour had altered: For whatever reason, he smelt different. She wondered if it was a new after shave, then disregarded this when she noticed that he had a day’s growth on his face. How odd. She decided to leave it for the time being. It was probably nothing. The main thought that kept dragging itself to the surface was,  _Why peppermint?_

*

       Vimes slunk away without actually looking like he was slinking. He was a little proud of himself. He leant against the brick wall of one of the city’s cleaner alleyways, and lit a cigar. Taking a deep drag, he grimaced.

       Angua was a bit of a problem. He’d gone to the University Library and done a little research on them and had found out that they were worse than bloodhounds. Few smells could cover up a scent when a werewolf was determined to find it. Yes, strong smells like peppermint could distract them, could give them a migraine from a sensory overload, but normal soap would not. That meant no amount of scrubbing would remove the lingering smells of...of what had happened last night. (He had a brief flashback of hot mouths and hands.)

       Vimes had been horrified to discover this, even though he’d anticipated it. It had other, unpleasant implications he hadn’t even considered before now. For one, every time he and Sybil were together, Angua  _would know_ . Sometimes, he really hated werewolf senses. 

       Of course, he was doing nothing wrong. Sybil had given her blessing, and they were all consenting adults and all that. But… As people like Harry King said, reputations were everything. If Angua could smell...what they’d done, then so could other undead. So...peppermint.

       Normally, he wouldn’t have snuck off for a smoke, but Angua… She was clever, one of his best officers. So, naturally, she’d soon figure out the reason behind the peppermint, and then there would be Questions.

       He finished his cigar, dropped it on the cobblestones and stamped on it. He was about to head back to the main road, back to the factory, when a hand settled on his shoulder.

       Vimes twisted around, ready to lash out, and froze when he saw who it was. “Sir.”

       Vetinari considered leaning against the wall, then apparently decided against it. Drumknott was at his side, of course, staring up at the filthy night sky. Vimes had once wondered why they were together so often, even during times when Drumknott’s time, at least, would have been better spent at the Palace. Of course, now knowing what he knew, Vimes didn’t wonder any more.

       “Oh, please, this isn’t the Oblong Office, and there’s no need to be so formal.”

       “Why are you here?”

       “Oh, to keep an eye on the riot, of course. But, when we noticed you standing here, two alleys down from the fray, we wondered why.”

       “Angua,” Vimes said. He didn’t bother giving details; he knew he wouldn’t have to.

       “Oh, yes, of course.” Vetinari looked thoughtful. “Has she said anything, yet?”

       “No, but she will, soon.” He didn’t bother elaborating on how he’d been avoiding her. Vetinari probably already knew.

       “Does she know you’re here?” It was an innocent sort of question, but Vimes was instantly suspicious. “Probably not. Why?”

       Vetinari signed, but he was smiling. Vimes recognised  _that_ particular smile. “Now?  _Really?_ ”

       “Don’t worry, I’ll play look out.”

        “What will you do if someone shows up? What will  _we_ do, just stand around whistling?” Then he remembered who he was talking to: Neither of them would be seen if they didn’t want to be. 

       Drumknott smiled broadly, then. Vimes was astounded by how he’d failed to notice how handsome Drumknott was. Probably because the man had a knack for remaining in people’s blind spots, so he was only visible from the corner of their eye. It was probably why Vetinari had noticed him.

       “Just this once, Your Grace. We’ll be so busy after this riot, I doubt we’ll have the time to meet up for a while.”

       Vimes rolled his eyes. “Fine,” he said, because he knew it was true.

       Vetinari moved down the alley a little, so that he could peer down both ends of it. He was also standing, Vimes noted, where he could keep an eye on them.

       Drumknott, still smiling, put a gloved hand to the side of Vimes’ face and kissed him. There was far more affection in that kiss than Vimes had been expecting. Drumknott pulled the glove off with his teeth, and managed to unlace Vimes’ breeches with one hand.

       It was quick and frantic, with Drumknott panting into his ear. His fingers worked the crown of Vimes’ dick, deft and...oh gods...how did he learn to to that thing with his thumb?

       Drumknott was a bit shorter than Vimes, so Vimes could see over his shoulder. Vetinari was watching them, face as blank as ever, but his eyes glittered. Drumknott grabbed onto Vimes’ arm with his free hand, his other hand a blur as he worked. Drumknott, red-faced and grinning, was getting off on being watched.

       Vimes closed his eyes and groaned, head falling back against the brickwork. He came with a soft grunt, and Drumknott cleaned him up with a handkerchief. Vimes, gradually came back to himself. When he did, he reached for Drumknott. He moved his hand over the bulge he’d expected to find.

       Flustered, Drumknott said, “It’s all right, I can wait a couple of minutes.” He glanced at Vetinari. That was interesting. Drumknott was shy about _this,_ but _not_ about giving another man a hand job in public.

       Vetinari waved an idle hand. “Don’t mind me.” The man honestly seemed to be enjoying himself, just watching them. It didn’t particularly come as a surprise, though: Vetinari came off as the sort of man who liked to linger at the edges of a party, so he could watch and listen, rather than losing perspective by actually getting involved.

       Vimes was getting a bit old for this, but he was oddly well-rested. He considered his options for a moment, then got to his knees. Drumknott, eager and doing a bad job of hiding it, fumbled his trousers open. Vimes had done his a couple of times, by now, so he more or less knew what Drumknott liked. Vimes worked quickly, not least because cobblestones were making his knee caps ache.

       Unlike Drumknott, Vimes was never going to master deep throating, so he stuck to what he could _do._ He licked and sucked at the tip, hand moving over the base. Drumknott grabbed his shoulders, his grip hard enough to bruise. Vimes sped up, and made Drumknott come with a strategic flick of his tongue.

       Vetinari did step in, then. He handed Vimes a fresh handkerchief, which Vimes spat into. Vimes straightened up, fixing his clothes; Vetinari helped Drumknott do the same.

       “Good day, Commander,” said Vetinari, and they left.

       Vimes, curious, followed them after a moment, and watched them climb into a carriage. He very briefly wondered if he could go with them, if he could make up some pretence that would sound plausible enough. Mostly, he was curious about how Vetinari would deal with his own little problem.

       “Sir?”

       He turned around. It was Angua.

       “Yes, Captain?” he tried to sound casual, or as casual as he ever got. He had no idea if it worked.

       “Detritus managed to get things under control. We’ve been looking for you, and–” She stopped, looked at him, and then very carefully looked away.

_Crap!_ Vimes thought; there was  _no_ way she couldn’t smell what he’d just done. 

       Angua, though, being a well brought up young woman, said nothing. “I’ll just go tell Carrot we found you.” She hurried off.

       Vimes knew that Angua was good at keeping secrets, but he still prayed she wouldn’t tell Carrot.

*


	4. Vimes Takes Charge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vetinari and Drumknott don't always get to run the show.

    The next week dragged on interminably. There were another two riots, which had interrupted production at Bobbit and Sons, but because the mob was made up of workers from  _ other  _ bakeries, there was very little actual baking going on. The city had gone from being flooded with yeasty victuals, to having a bread shortage, which led to an even greater number of people being not happy. Vimes just couldn’t win.

Then the Golem Trust did something unexpected. Miss Dearheart was not generally known for her willingness to negotiate a compromise, but she called a meeting with Mr Bobbit and did just that. She had originally demanded the golems be paid fair wages for their work, and had calculated it to be a very large sum indeed. The bakery owner had refused outright to pay (considering Mrs Bobbit was flouncing around the place dripping in furs and jewels, it was clear that most of the extra income was already being utilised) and was holding firm. 

    Miss Dearheart changed tactic. Making sure Mr Bobbit never quite forgot about the original sum, she told him that perhaps it was time that they started to consider the implications that further riots would have. If production were to be halted for much longer, the losses would start to outweigh the increased profits, and soon Lord Vetinari would become involved, and really, did Mr Bobbit want to be on the receiving end of one of his  _ looks _ ? How about, as a show of good faith, you pay the golems a small sum - just the amount the regular workers would have earned, no skin off your back - and we all move on? 

    Mr Bobbit fell hook, line, and sinker for this and happily agreed (anything to avoid the wrath of the predatory flamingo). He collected his cash tin, counted out the rather small amount of money, and nodded amicably when Miss Dearheart fluttered her eyelashes and asked oh so sweetly that could he perhaps ensure that she received receipts? He scribbled them out, and was even smiling as he handed them over. The smile disappeared quite quickly however when she went directly to the golems and replaced their chems with the receipts. 

    All four golems, now owning themselves, decided that the pastry industry was not for them. They walked out, leaving Mr Bobbit  no choice but to re-hire his previous workers, all with a wage increase.

    Once all the paperwork had been done, Vimes headed for the palace to report on the situation. Now that he didn’t have to worry about angry apron-clad mobs, as he walked his mind was free to worry about the werewolf problem. 

    He was sure that Angua hadn’t said anything to anyone else. Well, Carrot would be the only person she told, and since he wasn’t throwing Vimes reproachful looks, it was safe to say he didn’t know. Vimes wasn’t sure how long that could continue though. Angua was mad -  _ extremely pissed off  _  to be precise - and she spent most of the time in Vimes’ presence glaring at him, silently demanding to know how he could dare cheat on his wife. He still avoided her when he could, but when that wasn’t possible, it was clear she was not happy with him. Not even Carrot could remain oblivious to it forever.

    Of course, there was  _ one _ way to put a stop to all of it. Vimes could always sit her down and explain the situation and the arrangement he and his wife had. That would clear up the misunderstanding. Of course, that would mean a very frank, and embarrassing talk with a subordinate, and that wasn’t exactly something Vimes could bring himself to do right now. Besides, this wasn’t just his secret to tell. If he was going to go down that path, he’d need to discuss it with everyone else involved first.

    There was no one else in the waiting room when he arrived. He hadn’t made an appointment, but somehow Drumknott always seemed to know when he was coming. The clerk looked up from his desk with a genuine smile when the Commander walked in. 

    “Your Grace, it’s so very good to see you.”

    “You too,” he replied, leaving it there. He knew that several of Ankh-Morpork’s allies had spies in the city, and he wouldn’t be at all surprised if they were in the palace as well. 

    “His Lordship will see you now,” Drumknott told him. “Go on in.”

    He entered the Oblong Office, and came to stand in his customary position in front of the desk. “Sir,” he greeted the Patrician.

    “Sir Samuel.” Vetinari was dressed in a dusky black suit, and had paperwork spread across his desk. He gathered it up in his pale fingers and straightened it into neat piles. “You’ve been well, I trust?”

    “Yes, sir.” 

    “The bakery situation is now under control?”

    “Yes, sir. The Golem Trust negoti-” He stopped as a hand was raised.

    “I do not require the details, Commander,” Vetinari told him. “Your word that it is sorted is enough for me.” Vimes gave him a quizzical look but didn’t comment. Vetinari  _ always _ wanted the details. The Patrician stood, rang a small bell, and then moved around his desk. Behind Vimes the door opened, and Drumknott entered, locking the door behind him. “We’ve missed you, Your Grace,” Vetinari murmured, laying a hand on Vimes’ cheek. 

    Drumknott’s arms wrapped around him from behind, and Vimes felt warm breath on his neck as the clerk nuzzled him. 

    “We couldn’t risk coming to see you again,” the tall man said, running his fingers over the contours of Vimes’ face, tracing the line of the scar over his eye. “We didn’t want to raise suspicions.”

    “You’re lucky there was no one in the waiting room when I arrived then,” he said.

    “How so?” Drumknott asked in a puzzled voice, pulling his lips away from Vimes’ neck.    


    “You sent me straight in,” Vimes explained with a chuckle. “You  _ always _ make me wait. Very suspicious behaviour, that.”

    Vetinari looked over Vimes’ shoulder with a fond expression. “Always so impatient, Rufus.”

    The blond man shrugged. “There was no one to see. Besides, I know you’re impatient too.”

    “That I am.” He leaned over Vimes’ shoulder and captured Drumknott’s mouth in a kiss. Vimes wrapped his arms around the thin man, and worked his fingers under the suit jacket, pulling the shirt from the trousers. His warm hands found skin, and he trailed his fingertips across the Patrician’s lower back. Goosebumps broke out in his wake, and he felt the man shudder. Drumknott’s hands were also busy as he was being kissed, running up and down Vimes’ sides, and undoing the clasps of his armour. Between his two lovers, he was soon divested of it, and his shirt as well. 

    Vetinari pressed open mouthed kisses to his chest, his tongue dancing across his nipples, teasing them to hardness. Behind him, Drumknott was kissing down his spine, kneeling as he got lower and flicking his tongue into the top of his cleft. Nimble fingers were undoing his laces, and Vetinari also sank to his knees, pulling the breeches down with him. Vimes let out a shaky breath as the Patrician took him into his mouth, sucking gently on the head of his cock. The blond clerk sucked on a finger, then ran it down his crack, the digit searching until it found his puckered hole. Vimes’ hips bucked as Drumknott pressed the finger inside, and Vetinari hummed as the heavy cock was pushed further down his throat. 

    They continued to work Vimes from both sides, and he was soon so very close. He’d been waiting all week for this though, and he didn't plan on it being over so quickly. Also, as fun as it had been, he wasn’t going to let these two run the show this time. Today, Vimes was going to be in charge. Using superhuman willpower he hadn’t thought he possessed, he stepped out from between the two men. Drumknott whined in disappointment, and even Vetinari had a slight pout on his face. Vimes grinned. “So impatient, the pair of you.” He held out his hands and helped them both to their feet, then, still holding onto their hands, walked backwards towards the small conference table. Once there, he guided Vetinari so he was sitting in his customary chair at the head of the table. “You get to watch,” he said, his voice coming out much lower than usual. “I’m going to make sure that the next meeting we have in here, you won’t be able to think of anything other than what I’m going to do to Drumknott.”

    The tall man sat back, happy to comply, a smile on his face. Vimes turned to the secretary and started unbuttoning his shirt. “You are wearing far too many clothes,” he said. He pulled the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the milky skin below. Vimes ran his fingers over that soft expanse of skin, his tanned hands in stark contrast. He kissed his way down from delicate collarbones, and sucked a mark just above his bellybutton, his hands working at loosening the clerk’s trousers. Once they were undone, Drumknott sucked in his stomach, causing them to fall to the ground. “Show off,” Vimes muttered.

    Drumknott grinned, and wrapped his arms around Vimes’ neck. He kissed him deeply, and passionately, and yet again, Vimes felt the affection in the action. His snaked his own hands so they were clasped at the small of the blond man’s back, and returned the kiss in kind. His cock rubbed against the skin of Drumknott’s stomach, and he was pulled in even closer. Being shorter, the head of Drumknott’s cock was brushing against Vimes’ balls, and the clerk raised himself up on his toes so their lengths could rub against each other. 

    Vetinari had risen from his spot, and crossed to retrieve an item from his desk drawer. He returned, placing the item on the table and then sat down again. Vimes glanced down and saw it was a tube of lubricant, and he smiled over at the man. His smile turned into a grin as he saw the tent the man was pitching. Vetinari was idly running one of those slender fingers across his bulge, his eyes not straying from his lovers. “No touching yourself,” Vimes growled at him. 

    Vetinari almost mewled at the command, but removed his hands as instructed.

    “Sit on your hands,” Vimes told him. “I don’t want you giving into temptation.”

    Drumknott’s breath had hitched as he watched his boss comply with the orders. He snatched at Vimes, and this kiss was frantic and eager. The Commander spun the clerk around, and bent him him over the conference table. He flipped open the lube, and coated his cock, then pushed in all in one go. “Oh fuck!” Drumknott cried out, thrusting back against him.

    Vimes cupped his hand to Drumknott’s neck and gently pushed him down flat on the table. The blond man turned his head so his cheek was resting on the polished wood, and his eyes locked on Vetinari. Vimes took hold of the slim hips and pounded into the man, the angle causing him to brush against his prostate on the way in and out. He knew that at this angle the man wouldn’t last long at all.The clerk frotted himself against the surface of the table, looking for whatever friction he could find. Vimes felt muscles around him contract, and Drumknott cried out as he came, his legs shaking against Vimes’.

    Stepping backwards, he pulled Drumknott up with him, leaving a smeared mess on the conference table. The clerk collapsed back against him, unable to support himself. With a look at Vetinari that clearly told him to stay, Vimes scooped Drumknott into his arms and carried him across to one of the armchairs in front of the roaring fire. He was glad to see that since falling ill, the stubborn bastard had become much more agreeable to keeping out the cold. He lowered the clerk into the chair that faced towards the window, and used a clean handkerchief to clean him up. He then pressed a gentle kiss to his lips, and headed back to where he’d deposited the Patrician.

    Vetinari had obeyed his orders and was still sitting on his hands. He was as hard as a rock under his clothes, and Vimes reached down and rubbed a hand over him. The Patrician’s eyes closed, and his mouth fell open slightly at the sensation. Bending forward, he kissed the warm mouth, dipping his tongue inside to dance lazily with Vetinari’s. “Did you enjoy the show?” Vimes asked, as he pulled back.

    “Yes,” was all the seated man could manage. His voice was husky with want.

    Vimes looked over his shoulder to the fireplace and saw that Drumknott had twisted around in the chair so he could see them. “I think it’s Drumknott’s turn for a show, what do you think?” He turned back, and rubbed at the Patrician’s crotch again. “Would you like that, Your Lordship? To have your beloved Rufus watch as I fuck you?”

    Vetinari swallowed hard, and nodded. 

    Vimes reached under the black shirt and found a nipple, and twisted it hard. “I didn’t hear you,” he growled.

    Vetinari cried out in pleasure. “Yes!”

    “Yes, what?” He moved over and twisted the other one.

    “Yes, I would like it very much. Please, fuck me, Your Grace. Fuck me where Rufus can see us.” He was breathing hard, and his pupils were wide and wanting,

    Vimes pulled Vetinari to his feet and pinned his arms behind his back. “I’m not just going to fuck you where Drumknott can see us - I’m going to fuck you where anyone who just  _ happens _ to look up could see us too.” He marched them over to the tall windows, and pushed Vetinari against the glass. It was a hollow threat - Vimes knew perfectly well that at this time of day the sun reflected off the glass, making it look black, but still, there was enough risk to make it exciting. The glass fogged as Vetinari’s breath hit it, and he moaned as he felt Vimes press against him. His shirt was tugged up, and his trousers tugged down, just enough that the Commander had access to his arse and his cock sprung free. Vimes squeezed at the pert cheeks, and then spread them. He lined up his still slick cock, and pressed against Vetinari’s hole, holding back so there was pressure but no penetration. He looked over his shoulder and saw Drumknott curled up comfortably in the chair, his eyes wide, watching intently. Happy that the clerk had an unobstructed view, Vimes slipped himself in, pushing past the tight ring of muscle so he was filling the Patrician.

    Vetinari moaned again, and Vimes grinned at how vocal he was being today. Usually the man was quiet during sex, but today he must have been really worked up. He placed one hand on a hip, and linked the other with one of Vetinari’s that was against the glass. He started up a slow rhythm, taking his time, savouring. He nuzzled against the juncture where neck met shoulder, nipping at it gently so as not to leave a mark. Vetinari’s eyes were locked on the silent scene below; the square bustling with people, vendors hawking their wares, guards standing to attention, all unaware of the action above them.

    Vimes turned his head as he felt a hand on his shoulder, and Drumknott claimed him in a kiss. “Mind if I join in?” he asked quietly.

    “Of course,” he replied, watching as the clerk sank to his knees and took Vetinari’s throbbing cock in his mouth. The Patrician cried out as the warm mouth enveloped him, and he thrust into it. Vimes unclasped their fingers, and wrapped his hand in Vetinari’s hair, slowing the man so they could coordinate their thrusts. Drumknott was talented, but Vimes wasn’t about to risk choking the poor man. The Patrician leaned back into the grip, allowing Vimes better access to his throat. The Commander buried his lips back into the soft skin, feeling the pulse thundering below. 

    Vimes could feel the tightness in his balls as his orgasm began to build, and his thrusts sped up as he chased his release. He bit down as he came, harder than he’d planned, leaving a dark mark on the pale throat. Vetinari gasped, and cried out, “Sam!” as he spilled himself into Drumknott’s mouth. 

    Vimes pulled out, and the two of them collapsed onto the plush rug, joining Drumknott on the floor. Vetinari rolled onto his back, and there was a smile on his face. “Anytime you feel like being in charge, Your Grace, I am more than happy to oblige.”

    Drumknott curled himself against the tall man, his eyes on Vimes. “I second that.” His hand was splayed against Vetinari’s chest.

    Vimes lay down, fitting himself against Vetinari’s other side, and he placed his hand over the clerk’s and laced their fingers together. “You two had fun then?”

    “That’s an understatement,” Drumknott said. He then laughed. “I just hope no one really  _ did _ see us.”

    “I think we’re safe,” Vimes said, breaking into a yawn. He really should tell them about the continuing problem with Angua, and come up with a plan, but as they lay cuddled together, he found he was suddenly very sleepy. His head was pillowed in the crook of Vetinari’s shoulder, and he was warm and very, very satisfied. His eyes started to close, and he could hear his lovers’ breathing slowing as well. It seemed that the consensus was that a nap was in order. 

    Just before sleep took him, his mind threw out a random fact that it thought he’d not quite caught the first time. Vetinari had called him Sam. He had a momentary thought that he should be concerned about that, but then he dismissed it. He was happy, and enjoying himself, and maybe after all they had done together, it wasn’t such a bad thing to be on a first name basis.


	5. Vimes Tries Something New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Hogswatch and Vimes gets adventurous

Things were quite busy after that, and it was increasingly difficult for Vimes to find time to meet up with Drumknott and Vetinari. He’d spoken to them about Angua, and Vetinari had said they should wait for her to raise the issue: If she  _ was _ truly concerned, she’d either talk to Vimes, or to Sybil; and in any case, they were  _ hardly _ doing anything wrong.

A week passed, and then another, and then it was Hogswatch. Hogswatch was one of those holidays Vimes had never paid much attention to, before he’d married and had a son. Now, it had been a complicated sort of holiday, where he spent half the day with his wife and son, and the evening with Vetinari and Drumknott.

Sybil, being the wonderful woman she was, had decided to make Vimes’ life easier by facilitating this: She invited the pair over for dinner. This was not the first time she had invited Vetinari over, but it was the first time he’d accepted the invitation, and it was the first time Drumknott had come to visit.

Their arrival at Scoone Avenue was an interesting one. Sybil greeted them both warmly, and while Vetinari kissed her hand (he was probably grateful to her, for letting him sleep with her husband), Drumknott just stood there stiffly and  _ blushed _ . He slid behind Vetinari, somehow doing so without visibly moving, as if trying to divert attention from himself.

Vimes had told them that he’d been relaying everything to Sybil, largely because he was grateful for her goodwill so far. This was the first time Drumknott had been in the same room as Sybil since Vimes had walked in on him and Vetinari together. Drumknott was  _ shy _ , and this momentarily threw Vimes, because he was now so used to seeing the confident, cheeky, impatient side of Drumknott. The side that few people knew existed, and that Drumknott ordinarily concealed so well, that De Worde was of the opinion that he had “no discernible character”. (Miss Crisplock had once let this slip.) Vimes had forgotten how retiring Drumknott could be.

Sybil beamed at Drumknott, and over the course of a very big dinner, he gradually and visibly relaxed. Young Sam was largely responsible for this: Now seven years old, he’d spent the entire evening talking, cheerful and enthusiastic, to the two men he called “Mister Patrician” and “Mister Clerk”.

After dinner, they all retired to the Violently Puce drawing room, sharing polite but guarded conversation until Young Sam fell to sleep. He was put to bed, and then it was time for the second half of Vimes’ night to begin. He kissed Sybil goodnight and promised to return home early enough to see Young Sam open his presents. Sybil made his promise to not only do that, but help him try out said presents.

Then the three of them–him, Drumknott and Vetinari–left. Sybil did not want them to do anything more intimate than talking while they were at Ramkin Manor, just in case Young Sam (who was an incredibly curious boy) should go wandering during the night. (He’d started doing this lately, and had nearly walked in on Sybil and Vimes during a very private moment.)

Vetinari’s carriage was waiting outside, of course, and they sat in silence during the journey to the Palace. The loudest sound was that of the carriage wheels slopping their way through the snow, which had already been reduced to slush.

They made their way up to Vetinari’s chambers using the main route: Since the majority of the clerks and servants had gone home for the holiday, there was no one to see them go there.

Vetinari’s bedroom was rather more comfortable than it had once been, and a fire had already been lit in the narrow fireplace. Drumknott lit a few candles, and Vetinari locked the door.

The three of them worked without talking, then, divesting each other of their clothing. All three of them were oddly solemn, and Vimes knew why  _ he _ was (being beyond poor, as he had once been, made Hogswatch into a rather bitter affair). He did not, however, know the other men’s reasons. He did not ask.

Vimes sat on the edge of the bed, and Drumknott and Vetinari shared one of their silent conversations. He wondered how he’d had to physically walk in on them in order to find out the true nature of their relationship: Those looks, which were so effective at conveying information that they were akin to telepathy, were the sort of silent communication he shared with Sybil. Vimes finally knew the secret behind how Drumknott was so skilled at reading Vetinari, when few others could.

When the non-verbal conversation became verbal, it was Drumknott who spoke: “Vimes, we’d like to try something, something we haven’t done with you, yet.”

Vimes tensed slightly, trying to figure out what that could possibly be. He couldn’t always meet with them both, so there had been times when Vetinari had called him in for an “urgent meeting”, and Drumknott had been busy doing an audit, or running a Concludium. There had also been the odd occasion when Vetinari had been stuck in an actual meeting, when Vimes’ presence had been required, but his actual involvement had been limited. It was during those few occasions Drumknott had convinced Vimes to spend some time with him in his office.  

“It’s not something really weird, is it?” Sonky’s estranged daughter had taken over her deceased father’s business, and some of the designs she came up with bordered on the horrifying.

Vetinari chuckled and said, “Nothing weirder than what you’ve been doing to us, and we’ve been doing to each other.” He glanced at Drumknott, who was warming himself by the fire. The room was positively toasty.

It took a moment for Vimes to parse his meaning. “Oh,” he said. He frowned. “Assuming I agree to it, will it hurt?”

“A little, maybe, but not for long.”

Vimes considered it. He  _ had _ been growing increasingly curious, wondering it felt like from the other end of things, so to speak. And, damn him, he thought, watching Vetinari, he’d come to halfway trust the bastard. “Fine. Yes, all right.”

Drumknott, who had apparently been listening in on them, perked up. “Really?” The look on his face was oddly appropriate, considering it  _ was _ Hogswatch.

Vimes nodded rather stiffly.

This little meeting was rather like their first encounter, in that Vetinari and Drumknott decided to focus all of their attention on him. Vetinari took Vimes’ hand and led him further onto the bed, while Drumknott leant over Vimes, kissing him. Vetinari, meanwhile, crossed the room and brought out a bottle of lube. It was all oddly well choreographed, and Vimes wondered how long they’d been planning this for. The bed was even pre-expanded.

After a little while, Drumknott moved away, and Vetinari joined them on the bed. Vetinari placed the lube on the nightstand and suggested that Vimes get onto his hands and knees. A little puzzled, Vimes did so, but he asked, “Why this way?” Part of him would have preferred it face to face.

Drumknott put a pillow under his hips. “It’s easier this way the first time.” Judging by the look on his face, he was talking from experience. He then said, “Just tell us if you change your mind, all right?”

Vimes nodded, and he leant further forward, head resting on his crossed arms. (Vetinari had lately amassed a pretty impressive collection of pillows, most of which often ended up on the floor, so this was not difficult.) He heard the bottle open, and the sound registered in a way it normally would not.

Cool, slick fingers pressed inside him, working him open, and Vimes shifted, trying to get them to rub up against his prostate. He had no idea who was preparing him, and the room was quiet, apart from the sound of heavy breathing. The fingers were pulled out, and there was a pause, as if a silent game of paper, scissors rock was being played.

The winner, whoever it was, pushed inside him. It didn’t hurt as such. It was mostly...weird. A stretching feeling, and a sensation of fullness. It could’ve been a lot worse, and Vimes had thought it would be. (And, really, that was the reason he hadn’t done this, before now.)

Vimes was tempted to look up, to see who was inside him, but he didn’t have to: Drumknott panting slightly, asked, “Can I please move, now?”

“Oh,  _ gods, _ yes.” Vimes nodded as much as was physically possible in his position.

Drumknott started off slow, but his (and Vimes’) impatience soon got the better of him. He clutched Vimes’ hips, fingers digging in hard enough to bruise, and Vimes frotted himself on the pillow. There was a moan, then, and it didn’t come from either of them. Vimes  _ did  _ look up, then. Vetinari sat beside him, legs splayed and hand moving over his dick.

Vimes caught his eye, and Vetinari grinned. It was not a look Vimes would have ever thought Vetinari capable of: His smile was absolutely  _ filthy _ . Balancing himself on one elbow, Vimes raised the front half of his body, and reached out to Vetinari. He rubbed small circles into Vetinari’s balls with his thumb, massaging him. Vimes couldn’t think straight, and this was the best he could do, but apparently it was enough, because Vetinari  _ writhed _ .

Vetinari moaned again, louder than usual, and came. (Vimes, taken aback by how responsive he’d been, would ask him about this later, and Vetinari would tell him that he had extraordinarily sensitive balls.)

Vimes soon followed suit: Drumknott had to adjust his thrusts, because of the change in position. The resulting change in angle had him pressing and rubbing against Vimes’ prostate on every inward stroke, and on the way back out. Vimes cried out, and the noise he made was not quite a word. But, if it had been, it would have sounded suspiciously like “ _ Rufus! _ ”

Drumknott pulled out, gasping, but he had yet to come. Vetinari handed him the lube again, and Drumknott slicked up three fingers and shoved them up his own arse. Vetinari, still a little unsteady, climbed over Vimes and started working Drumknott’s cock, whispering encouragement into his ear. Gasping, Drumknott finally came. He slumped, shuddering, into Vetinari’s arms.

*

They cleaned off after that, and Vetinari leant back against Drumknott’s chest, reading. Vimes was asleep, dozing, and he had been for some time. He stirred, now, and sat up. Yawning and stretching slightly (one of his joints clicked), he asked, “What time is it?”

Vetinari put his book on the night stand. “Nearly midnight, Your Grace.”

“Thought it was later… Earlier. Whatever.” Vimes yawned again.

Smiling, now, and it was that smile that he only wore when the three of them were together like this, Vetinari asked, “Would you object to another go?”

Vimes thought about this. It had been several hours, and although he was a bit sore, he thought he could manage it. “All right, but I want you, this time.”

Vetinari looked nonplussed. Well, as nonplussed as Vetinari ever visibly got. “You want to be on the receiving end again?”

“It was...okay.” Vimes was not ever going to admit how good it had felt; it was too damn embarrassing. “I want to look at you, though, while we...” He shook his head and let the sentence hang there. Vetinari knew what he meant.

Vetinari got up, and they reorganised themselves. Vimes possessed a great deal more self control than he had in his younger days, and Vetinari was the sort of person who could walk around on a broken leg: If he needed to, he could ignore his arousal. Vetinari and Vimes were never going to be throwing each other over furniture, like those god awful bodice rippers Sybil bought so she could mock them. (On nights when Young Sam was fast asleep, she would do dramatic readings of them. One particularly memorable line had gone: “...he had hair the colour of butter chicken...”)

Drumknott, being easily the youngest of the trio, made up for this. Even so, he was a very patient young man (generally speaking). Things were a little calmer, now that they’d all come once.

Vimes now leant back against Drumknott, half sitting up, half lying down. Vetinari put the pillow under Vimes’ hips again, because it made things easier. (They always used the same pillow, which spent most of its time in a cupboard by the door. Vetinari refused to sleep on something that had spent so much time being frotted against.)

Vetinari grinned, leant forward and pressed a kiss to the base of Vimes’ dick. Vetinari made a show of licking him. He dragged his tongue up the vein that ran along the underside, and pausing to smile, he swallowed Vimes to the root. Vetinari looked up, meeting Drumknott’s gaze.

Vimes gasped and tried not to thrust. Behind him, Drumknott was rubbing himself against Vimes’ back. “He’s been practising,” Drumknott managed.

Vimes knew that Vetinari was the sort of person who only did things he was good at, and in order to get good at them, he practised and practised until perfection became a matter of fact. Vimes also knew that he hadn’t had much alone time with Vetinari lately, so there was only one person he could have been practising on.

He got the abrupt mental image of Vetinari, at the end of his working day, carefully capping his pens and putting away any accrued paperwork. After that, Vetinari would calmly call for Drumknott and get on his knees, unlacing the younger man’s trousers and taking him into his mouth. Of course, Drumknott was the expert when it came to deepthroating, so he’d probably had to demonstrate the correct technique. The thought made his cock twitch, and Vetinari groaned. The resulting vibrations turned it into a beautiful feedback loop.

Vetinari stopped suddenly, when Vimes was on the brink. He grinned, staring down at Vimes. Drumknott wordlessly passed Vetinari the lube. Vetinari slicked himself up, paused to suck a bruise into Vimes’ thigh, and pushed himself inside.

Vetinari bent over him, kissing him hard. The shift had his cock pressing directly against Vimes’ prostate. Apparently more desperate than he looked, Vetinari began to move. Vimes felt himself near the edge with every shallow, hard thrust. As close as he’d earlier been, he came first, seizing up and crying out. “Oh, gods!” he choked; “Havelock!”

Grinning, although Vimes was not sure why (Vetinari always had at least a dozen reasons for doing anything), Vetinari pulled out. Vimes rolled onto his side, watching as Vetinari made himself comfortable between Drumknott’s spread legs.

Still slick, he thrust inside the younger man, who more or less bounced on Vetinari’s cock. Drumknott reached between them, wanking furiously, as Vetinari buried his face in his neck. Vetinari bit down  _ hard _ , and they came together, shaking and clutching each other.

Vimes’ last thought, before nodding off again, was,  _ No wonder some people think he’s a Vampire. They probably saw Drumknott’s neck. _


	6. Growing Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rufus is turned on by Scary Commander and the boys break in a new rug.

The weather turned shockingly cold as the holiday season wound to a close.  _ The Times _ did another of their ‘coldest winters in living memory’ pieces and this time, no one contested it. Even the Ankh was threatening to freeze over in parts, and given how low the actual water content of the river was, that was a mighty feat.

Normal businesses had quietened over Hogswatch, but for the Watch, it was steady as usual. Several bodies had appeared in the week following the new year, all frozen in grotesque poses and propped against historical landmarks. The first had been put down to a casualty of the weather, but when the second body turned up, followed closely by three and four, they had Igor thaw the bodies and determine an actual cause of death. The victims - all human women, all middle aged and just starting to grey - had been strangled, and each of them had the claw of a crab attached to their pinky fingers. 

Vimes and Angua were prowling the area around the Wizard’s Quarter where the latest victim had been discovered. He hadn’t even thought twice about assigning themselves to the task; when they were alone, the werewolf would glare at him continuously, and when others were about, she would be stiffly formal with him, but he could handle that if it meant using her superhuman senses to pick up the trail of their killer. It had been sleeting overnight, and so there was little to go on. Both of them were feeling rather dejected, and Angua almost seemed to forget that she was mad at Vimes as they made the decision to head back to the Watch House.

They were just coming out of one of the back alleyways when a black carriage rattled to a stop in front of them. The door opened and Drumknott stepped out, wincing at the cold. “Good morning, Your Grace,” he greeted Vimes solemnly, before nodding at Angua. “Captian. His Lordship sent me to see how the investigation is coming along. He wants a report.”

“Slowly,” Vimes told him, unable to keep the frustration from his voice. “This weather is washing away any evidence before we can find it.”

“Is it true about the claw?”

Angua nodded. “Though we have no idea what it means. There’s been no trace of any of the victims down by the docks, or near the fish markets.”

“ _ The Times  _ seem to have latched onto that piece of information,” Drumknott said hesitantly.

Vimes glowered. “What have they done now?”

“Maybe now isn’t the time,” the clerk said, holding up a hand to calm the Commander. 

“I am going to bloody well kill De Worde myself if he does anything to hinder this investigation. I’m sick and tired of him sticking his nose in where it isn’t welcome! He thinks he’s entitled to whatever information he wants just because he’s part of the free press. He causes more harm than good, and I’m running out of patience.” 

The little luck they had had with the case so far was causing Vimes to be more irritable than usual, and Angua noticed that the blond man’s pupils had dilated when the Commander had started to rant. She felt sorry for the poor man - he seemed like a nice young man, shy and quiet, but efficient, and had enough on his plate dealing with the Patrician every day. He didn’t deserve to be dragged over the coals by a fuming Vimes as well. “Does it really matter what  _ The Times _ prints?” she asked Vimes in what she hoped was a conciliatory tone. 

“Yes it bloody  _ does _ ! They have no right to take snippets of information and pass them onto the public without the proper context. They’ll cause a bloody riot.” He turned the full force of his glare on the clerk, and even though her hearing wasn’t as good as a vampire’s, she could tell the poor man had stopped breathing. “What. Did. De Worde. Print?” he demanded.

He swallowed hard. “He’s given the killer a nickname.”

“A nickname?” Vimes asked incredulously. “Rufus, please tell me you’re joking.”

“Unfortunately not. They’re calling him the  _ Killer Crustacean _ .”

Taking a deep breath, Vimes turned to Angua. “I’d better go and see Vetinari and find out if there’s anything we can do to nip this in the bud. Are you right to follow up from this end?”

She nodded. “Nobby was chasing up Verity Pushpram to get a list of crab fishermen we can speak to. I’ll see how he’s going.”

“Alright. Let’s hope we find something we can use.” 

“Yes, sir.” She watched as he and the clerk climbed into the carriage and drove off.  _ Huh _ , she thought.  _ Since when is the Commander on a first name basis with Drumknott? _

_ * _

Vimes sat glaring at his feet as the carriage jolted forward, feeling his gut churn with anger at the ridiculous name the press had given a murderer. He startled as Drumknott pounced onto his lap. Gloved hands were placed on each cheek and he was kissed passionately. He felt his rage dissipate as a warm tongue was pushed into his mouth to twine with his. He slipped his hands around the slight man and cupped his arse, watching as long eyelashes fluttered against cheeks tinged pink from the cold. A few moments later they broke apart, both breathing hard. “What was that for?” he asked with a grin.

Drumknott’s answering smile was sex personified. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are when you go all Scary Commander?” He kissed down Vimes’ jaw, before dropping his lips to his neck. Vimes allowed his head to fall back, exposing more of his throat. “I wanted to jump you right then and there.”

“It would have given Angua her answers,” Vimes noted with a chuckle. “Well, half the answers, anyway.”

Drumknott’s lips made their way back up to his jaw, and then settled against his ear. “I’m going to suck your cock now,” he whispered, his voice silky.

Vimes moaned in response, and allowed his hands to fall free from the clerk as he slipped off his lap. Drumknott knelt on the floor of the carriage, and undid his breeches. He pulled them down far enough to allow the heavy cock to spring free, and then he licked delicately at the slit, lapping up the pre-cum that was already leaking after the kiss. He sucked at the head, his tongue twirling around the tip, sending little jolts of pleasure shooting through Vimes. He then looked up, locking eyes with the Commander, then winked, before swallowing him whole. 

“Gods!” Vimes cried, his hips bucking as the expert mouth worked him. No matter how often Drumknott did this for him, he never quite got used to how amazing it felt. Sybil could never quite take him in all the way, and as much as he enjoyed it when she sucked him, there was just no comparison. 

The carriage pulled to a stop, and Vimes mewled as Drumknott pulled off him and tucked him away. “Don’t worry, Your Grace, I’ll finish you off inside.” He pulled him in for a quick kiss, and then his face settled into the sombre, serious look that he adorned for his secretarial role. The door was opened by the driver, and Drumknott stepped out, followed closely by Vimes.

They made their way in silence through the marble corridors, walking side by side, close, but not touching. Vimes could almost feel the electricity bouncing between them, like a miniature thunderstorm, building, building. A servant came down the corridor towards them, carrying a large tray, and they ducked to one side to allow her to pass, Vimes popping his hand on the small of Drumknott’s back to guide him. He heard the clerk gasp at the touch, and smiled inwardly at knowing it wasn’t just him feeling it.

The waiting room was empty when they arrived. Vimes commented at this.

“His Lordship’s schedule cleared this morning when the Head of the Fool’s Guild was hospitalised after an incident with a ladder and a plastic flower. I suggested we fill the gap with an  _ appointment _ with yourself.”

Looking around again to ensure they were alone, Vimes pushed Drumknott up against his desk. “You have such  _ clever _ ideas, Rufus,” he growled, before kissing the clerk hard. Drumknott had removed his gloves on the way in, and he locked his arms about the Commander’s neck, his fingers warm against his skin. Vimes reached down and grabbed his hips, lifting him so he was sitting on the desk. Drumknott’s knees fell open, and Vimes stepped in close, pressing himself against his lover. They continued to kiss, but they kept their eyes open, and Vimes could see the young man’s eyes darting behind them to ensure no one came in. 

“Just a second,” Drumknott said, leaning backwards and reaching down behind his desk to pull at a string he had there. “Okay, where were we?” His arms returned to be looped around the broad, tanned neck of the Duke of Ankh, and Vimes snaked one hand up the man’s back to twine his fingers into the hair at the base of the delicate neck. He felt more than heard as Drumknott’s breathing hitched, and there was the slight tensing of his shoulders, as his eyes flickered to a spot behind them. He didn’t break the kiss though, so Vimes assumed that someone had come, but it was someone they were happy to see them making out. 

The clerk moved a hand down between them and rubbed at Vimes through his breeches. The older man responded by pushing him down onto his back, files sliding backwards till they fell onto the floor. He unbuttoned the suit jacket, and pulled the shirt from its place tucked into the trousers. He pushed it up, revealing the soft skin of Drumknott’s abdomen, and he traced his fingers down from the sternum to his belly button. There were faint marks down one side, old bruises from love bites, and Vimes leaned forward to kiss them, and then suck them anew. He felt a gentle caress to his back, and a lean body was pressing against him from behind.

“As much as I would love to watch you fuck each other on Drumknott’s desk,” Vetinari said to them in a lust filled voice, “We are rather exposed out here. Shall we move into my office?”

Drumknott pouted and sat up on the desk, leaning over Vimes’ shoulder to kiss the Patrician. “I suppose you’re right,” he said, sounding sulky.

Vimes laughed a little, noting the difference in the clerk from their first time together. He was still sensible and practical, but there were glimpses of impulsiveness, of an enthusiasm he was having trouble curbing. “He’s definitely right,” he said, twisting his neck around to press a kiss to Vetinari’s lips, and then back again to brush against Drumknott’s. “Besides, you promised me you’d finishing sucking my cock,” he purred.

He felt the hardness of the Patrician’s cock press against his back. “Sounds like I missed out on some fun,” he said. He didn’t sound disappointed or jealous though, just eager.

“We made sure we saved the best for you,” Drumknott told him with a grin as he slipped off the desk. 

The made their way into the Oblong Office, and locked the door behind them. Vimes noticed that the usual rug in front of the fire had been swapped out for a thicker, plusher one, and it was here that he was led. Compared to the chill outside, the room was toasty and he rather felt that they were much too overdressed for the warmth. He pulled the heavy Patrician’s robe off slender shoulders and started to undo the buttons on the black (obviously) shirt underneath. He used his fingers to spread the material as he went, and he placed delicate kisses to the skin as it was exposed. Once the shirt was entirely unbuttoned, he slipped it off and gestured to Drumknott. They’d had a lot of fun on the way over and it seemed only fair to lavish some attention on Havelock. Although the man loved to watch, Vimes knew he could be very responsive when touched and he wanted to hear the man lose control.

Drumknott stepped behind Vetinari and pushed gently at his shoulders, causing him to fold up and sink to his knees on the rug. They followed him down, and knelt on either side of him. The blond clerk started rubbing circles into his shoulders, easing the tension that was always there in the taut muscles, while Vimes continued to kiss, lick, and nibble his way down the pale chest. He felt long fingers wrap into his hair and he turned his head into the touch. The digits trailed over his cheek and he sucked them into his mouth, his own brown eyes locked on pale blue ones. 

Once each finger had been suckled, he dropped his head back down to its previous path and kissed down the trail of black hair that started just under Vetinari’s belly button and disappeared into the top of his trousers. He rubbed his face against the bulge he could feel there but didn’t make any moves to remove the garment. He moved sideways, kissing his way over to one protruding hip bone, and then dancing his tongue over it. He then moved over to the other hip, his tongue tickling and teasing it as well. 

“Please,” Vetinari cried out, his hips bucking as he longed for more contact.

Vimes smirked at him, and reached over to the tube of lubricant that had been strategically placed next to the rug. “I think that you should fuck me now,” he told the Patrician. “And while you do that, I’m going to collect on a promise that was made.”

The grin on Drumknott’s face at this announcement could only be described as predatory. How the young man managed to bottle this side of him up and keep it from the public was anyone’s guess. 

They moved about on the rug, preparing each other, and getting into position. Vetinari knelt behind Vimes and pushed him forward onto hands and knees, then pushed his slick cock inside. Vimes moaned at the feeling, relishing how good it felt, although there was something minutely different today. If only he hadn’t been so timid about the whole thing, he could have had this so much sooner. His hips were grabbed and Vetinari thrust against him, as Drumknott lounged in front of them, stroking his leaking member. 

Vetinari then took hold of Vimes’ shoulders and eased him up onto his knees. The Commander leaned back against him, and arms wrapped around his chest to help balance him. Drumknott sat up and scooted closer, and his tongue darted out to subconsciously lick at his lips. It was such a sensual act that Vimes almost came on the spot. Wasting no time on niceties, Drumknott swallowed him down, taking back up where he’d left off. 

The angle they were at made it only possible for Vetinari to make shallow thrusts, but it was enough to brush against Vimes’ prostate almost every time. Vetinari would thrust up, Drumknott would deepthroat him, and then as his cock slipped from that glorious mouth, Vetinari would pull out, dragging against Vimes’ most sensitive spot. It was a slow, steady, coordinated assault, and Vimes writhed at the feeling. He could feel his orgasm building so gradually that it was almost torture. 

When the dual sensation got too much and set him over the edge, his vision whited out. He cried out as he came, and strong arms held him up as his knees turned to jelly. As his vision returned to normal, he felt Vetinari slip out from him, and Drumknott helped him to lay down on the rug. “You two are a force of nature, d’you know that?” he panted.

Drumknott laughed, and caressed his cheek. “Would you have it any other way?”

Unable to keep the silly grin off his face, Vimes shook his head. “Gods, no. That was amazing” He noticed Vetinari removing a sonky, and wondered why he had used one today when they never did.

With eyes glittering with desire, Drumknott pulled Vetinari to him and kissed him deeply. The assassin pushed him down onto the rug so he was lying next to Vimes, and then swung a leg around so he was straddling the clerk back to front. He leaned down and took Drumknott’s length into his mouth, and the blond man raised his head a little and maneuvered the Patrician’s cock into his own mouth, and they proceeded to suck each other off. Vimes watched on, his eyes wide, and his question answered. He and Sybil had never attempted the hetrosexual version of this since his knees weren’t the best, and she was too self conscious to sit on his face, but he’d always wanted too. He was glad to know that it seemed to work just as well when both people had the same appendages. He turned on his side and nuzzled against Drumknott’s cheek, feeling as the cock slid in and out of his mouth. 

Vimes found that he was beginning to learn the unspoken language that the Patrician and his secretary used together, because he clearly understood the look Drumknott was giving him. It said ‘ _ Join in _ .’ He grinned, and nodded, and watched as Drumknott used his hands to signal to Vetinari that he wanted them to roll over so he could be on top. The position change was executed more gracefully than Vimes thought possible when genitals were in orifices that had sharp, pointy bits. Vimes got onto his knees and bent over the Patrician’s legs, and waited until Drumknott had come up for air. He then licked his way along the length, and soon they were licking in tandem, one on either side. Vetinari moaned, which caused Drumknott to shudder in pleasure. Vimes licked up the cock again, and when he reached the head, he moved slightly until his lips connected with Drumknott’s. They shared a brief kiss before they moved their lips back down the throbbing shaft between them. 

Vetinari moaned again, and Drumknott cried out as the vibrations caused him to climax. Vimes sucked at the head of the Patrician’s cock, waiting until the clerk had recovered sufficiently. Once he had, Vimes pulled off and allowed Drumknott to take the length in his mouth and soon the thin hips beneath him were bucking into his wet heat.

With no cleaning up to do, they settled together in a tangle of limbs on the rug. Vimes knew he would have to get back to work soon, but he wasn’t quite ready yet. Drumknott lay in his arms, and Vetinari was pressed up behind him, his long legs curled with his shorter ones, and a hand lazily tracing circles on the skin of his hip. A thought occurred to him. “How did all of this start?” he asked.

“Have you already forgotten about the night you kicked down my bedroom door?” Vetinari asked, nuzzling at the sensitive spot behind his ear.

“No, before that. How did  _ you two _ become a thing?”

Drumknott rolled over to face them,  and cuddled against Vimes’ chest, he hand twining with Vetinari’s. He laughed quietly. “It was all rather boring to be honest.”

“Boring?” Vimes repeated, not at all sure how something like this could be  _ boring _ .

“I’m a practical man, Your Grace. And Havelock isn’t exactly the sort to swoon. How do you  _ think  _ it would have happened?”

Vimes shrugged. “I don’t know. This is the first time I’ve thought about it.” He brushed an errant lock back from Drumknott’s forehead. “So tell me then, how  _ did _ it happen?”

They exchanged another of their looks and Vimes interpreted it as them deciding on who was going to do the telling. “Rufus made an appointment to see me,” Vetinari began, being the chosen delegate. “He came in, dressed in his best suit, and asked if he could speak to me about a personal matter. I was terrified he’d come to tell me he had met someone and was resigning so he could marry and move away.”

Drumknott tutted. “I still can’t believe you ever thought I’d leave you.”

It was Vetinari’s turn to shrug. “As fond of you as I’d grown, I couldn’t expect you to stay with me forever. Don’t think I don’t know about the several job offers you get each week.”

The clerk blushed. “You know about those?” He hid his face against Vimes’ chest.

Vetinari chuckled. “Of course I do. I’m not at all surprised - every leader on the Disc would kill to have you working for them. But I also know about the polite declinations you send. I understand you use them so often that you have a template?”

“Of course he does,” Vimes murmured affectionately, pressing a kiss to Drumknott’s hair.

“Anyway, he stood in front of me, refusing to sit, and announced that he had a proposal for me. He was worried that I was becoming too isolated in my role, but understood that due to the nature of this job, there were very few people I could trust. He knew I trusted him implicitly, and so offered me his services. I could avail him at anytime I required for a physical release, and he was also open to the possibility of a personal attachment if I so wished.”

Drumknott moaned. “You make it sound so detached.”

“It was touching, Rufus. The fact that you were willing to do that for me, with no personal gain for yourself.”

“I think I get my fair share of gains out of it, thank you very much,” Drumknott grumbled. His face was still buried in Vimes’ chest, and the Commander could feel the heat from the blush. 

“At the time you didn’t know that you would, though. Anyway,” he continued the story, “he offered me a trial so I would be fully informed before I made my decision. Before I could even respond, he dropped to his knees and demonstrated just how talented he was.”

“I had thought that was something you’d learned with Havelock,” Vimes told Drumknott. 

“Oh no, he had honed his skills well before I came along,” Vetinari said dryly. “Something that I am  _ most _ grateful for. As you are aware, Your Grace, no man could deny Rufus anything once he’s used that mouth of his on them. I accepted his offer, and we began a relationship.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Just over two years ago,” the Patrician answered. 

“And in that whole time, I never guessed. Huh. Some policeman I am.”

Drumknott gave him a squeeze. “Havelock’s life depends on our discretion - we’ve fooled everyone, not just you. I don’t think we’d have been able to keep it from you for much longer though. The past six months we got more and more emotionally attached and dropped our guard a few times. I think you’d have picked it up sooner rather than later.”

Vimes sighed. “I really should get back to work.” He twisted his head around to look at Vetinari. “Any chance you’ll allow me to do the city a public service and bump off De Worde?”

“I rather think that would cause more troubles than it would prevent.”

“Oh well, worth a try.”

The climbed to their feet and dressed, and Vimes gave them one last kiss. “See you soon?”

“I hope so, Sam,” Vetinari told him.

“It doesn’t feel the same anymore when you’re not here,” Drumknott told him. 

They all shared a look, and Vimes found himself slightly scared by how attached he was becoming to the two men. He cleared his throat as the silence became more and more charged. “I should be off,” he said again.

“I’ll walk you out,” Drumknott told him. 

With one last smile at Vetinari, Vimes and the clerk left the office. As they stepped into the waiting room, Angua walked in, her cheeks flushed from hurrying. “Sir, there’s been a development in the case,” she told Vimes. “We found -”

Several things happened at once. Vetinari stepped into the room, asking Drumknott for the latest figures on the Lancrean Wool prices. Angua stopped in front of the three men, and her nostrils flared. And Vimes felt his stomach plummet as he realised their secret was out. Her eyes widened as she looked between each of the men.

“Angua, I can explain,” Vimes began. The werewolf didn't give him a chance. With a glare at all three men, she turned on her heel, and stalked from the palace.


	7. Complications

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angua confronts Sybil, and Vetinari gets jealous.

    Vimes swore.

    “Let her go, Sam,” Vetinari said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

    “Yeah? It’ll be fine, will it?” Vimes more or less demanded. He hadn’t expected Angua to be here, and couldn’t quite fathom why she had been. It occurred to him that maybe there was a problem back at Pseudopolis yard, and that maybe it would be best for him to go back there. He said as much to Vetinari and Drumknott, and the two of them exchanged one of their significant looks. Vimes was beginning to decode those looks, but it was like trying to figure out a cypher without actually being able to read and write.

    “I would advise against you returning to Scoone Avenue to change, though,” Drumknott said carefully. “Perhaps use one of those famous showers of yours at Pseudopolis Yard?”

    “Why?”

    “Because that’s exactly where Captain Angua will have gone,” Vetinari said. “Think about the sort of woman she is: She won’t have gone to talk to Captain Carrot, for instance, because that would take far too much explaining.”  

    Vimes got the abrupt mental image of Angua trying to articulate what had just happened to her boyfriend, or worse, to Colon or Visit. Unable to help himself, he sniggered. “She’s going to talk to Sybil, then.”

    “Which is exactly what we want,” Drumknott pointed out. “Sybil will be able to...explain things for the Captain, and maybe the Watch at large will even learn to think twice before visiting the Palace without an invitation.” Drumknott looked directly at Vimes, but he was smiling.

    Vetinari laughed, “Yes, but Rufus, if our dear Sam hadn’t barged in on us, then none of this would have happened, would it?”

    “A fair point.” Drumknott sighed, then, “We’d best get back to work. Will we see you later, Sam?” He sounded so hopeful that and outright “no” would have been tantamount to killing a puppy with a sackful of puppies.

    “I’ll try to come back later. Might not be able to if there’s an emergency.” He straightened up, adjusted his armour slightly (needlessly), and once again became Commander Vimes. The same subtle change came over both Vetinari and Drumknott, and they transitioned back into their formal, work selves.

    “Commander,” Vetinari nodded, Vimes returned the nod, and he left.

*

    Angua went straight to Scoone Avenue, intent on talking to Lady Sybil. She was doing this because it was the Right Thing To Do, and cursed herself for not having done it earlier. Of course, she knew it was none of her business, and she felt horrible and nosy, but Carrot...he’d somehow _know_ she knew about something like this, and he’d know if she didn’t do anything about it. She just couldn’t ignore this any longer.

    Anyway, Lady Sybil had been so good to the Watch, and she’d been so good to Angua, especially when it came to the topic of Angua’s mother. Angua felt indebted to her, and obligated to tell her abut this, even if it _was_ unpleasant. Yes, all right, the news would hurt Lady Sybil, but at least Lady Sybil could deal with it now, rather than several years from now, when it would become public knowledge (as these things always did). At least Angua could save her from becoming a laughing stock.

    Angua found Lady Sybil ‘round the back of the house. She was sitting with Young Sam, who was investigating an ant nest. Lately, Lady Sybil had said, Young Sam had become enamoured of bugs and insects of all kinds. (Young Sam had begged Lord Vetinari to let him see the scorpion pit, and Vetinari had told Young Sam that the scorpions had been eaten by rats years ago.)  

    Thinking about Vetinari made Angua queasy: This whole time, she’d thought Mister Vimes was seeing a random seamstress, but instead, he was cheating on Lady Sybil with _Vetinari_. And Drumknott, she reminded herself.

    Upon seeing Angua, Young Sam abandoned his entomological studies and ran to wrap his arms around Angua’s legs. He chattered about spiders and beetles for some time, before Lady Sybil apparently saw the look on Angua’s face.

    “Cone on, Sam, Captain Angua’s legs must be sore, now.” Lady Sybil called for Young Sam’s nanny, and once Young Sam had been led away, Lady Sybil motioned for Angua to sit beside her.

    A little awkward, Angua did. She was unsure how to broach the topic, so she went straight for, “Lady Sybil, I saw something a bit...upsetting, today.”

    “Oh my, upsetting how?”

    “Um… I won’t let it ever be said that I’m not loyal to Mister Vimes, but...” She decided to just blurt it out, like ripping off one of those newfangled sticky bandages: “Mister Vimes is cheating on you.”

    Lady Sybil blinked. “Is he, now?” All right, that calm response was _not_ the reaction she’d been expecting.

    “Um… He seemed to have something on his mind, and I was worried about him… And...I...” She quickly glossed over how he’d stank of sex, because people usually didn’t like to be reminded of how Werewolves could smell that sort of thing. “I went up to the Palace, and I didn’t so much walk in on him as he walked in to me.” She swallowed, very much aware that she was talking about the Commander of the Watch to his wife, who just happened to be a Duchess. This was not like telling a fellow member of the Watch that her boyfriend might be seeing someone on the side.

    “And?” Lady Sybil prompted her, her face utterly unreadable.

    “And...I’m really sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, but Mister Vimes is cheating on you with Lord Vetinari...and..and Drumknott.” There, she’d said it.

    Lady Sybil nodded, calm, and said, “I know.”

    It took a moment for those words to make sense. “What?”

    “I said that I know. And it’s not cheating, because I gave him permission to do so.”

    “Oh.” Angua fell silent, thinking. She knew that members of the aristocracy occasionally did this, but she’d never thought that Mister Vimes… It was a relief, in a way, because at least it meant that he wasn’t… Wasn’t _what_? A horrible person? A slow, dull blush came over her. “I’m sorry,” she said.

    “For what?”

    “For being...nosy, I suppose. It was none of my business.”

    Lady Sybil sighed. “Yes, it is a private affair, and so you _could not_ have known that Sam is allowed to go off with Havelock and Rufus from time to time. I appreciate you wanting to save me potential embarrassment.”

    “Why them, though?” Angua asked, before she could stop herself.

    “Because the heart wants what it wants.” Lady Sybil shrugged. “Have you never cared for someone despite how much you know you shouldn’t? Not because it’s shameful, but because you spend half your time furious with them?”

    Angua thought of Carrot, and how he was so good, so annoyingly good. “I should get going, now. I was only there because Carrot sent me.” There was some problem with the Undertaking, apparently.

    “Thank you, and do come back for tea tomorrow. We have much to discuss.”

    Angua nodded, promised to do so, and headed back to Pseudopolis Yard.

*

    It was late when Vimes finally got home. There had been a nasty brawl in one of the dwarf bars and several officers had gotten hurt, and it had taken hours to get it all sorted and calm things down. He was too exhausted to even think of returning to the Palace so he’d sent Vetinari a message advising that he would see them soon, and went directly home.

    Sybil was in bed reading when he came in, but she stayed quiet as he ran a bath. He eased himself down into the hot water, and his eyes closed in relief that the day had come to an end.

    “I assume you’re aware that Sergeant Angua paid me a visit today?” Sybil’s voice came from the doorway.

    Vimes nodded, opening his eyes to look at his wife. “I’m so sorry, love.”

    “There’s nothing to be sorry for, dear. I’m sure you knew it would only be a matter of time until she figured it out. I’m surprised it didn’t happen sooner.”

    He shrugged, the water slopping against the edges of the bath. “She’s been mad at me for weeks so she knew something was up. It was only today she she saw the three of us together and figured out all of it.”

    “How was she when she got back to the Watch House?” Sybil came and sat on the side of the bath and rubbed at the back of his neck.

    “She came into my office, told me she was sorry that she misunderstood, and hasn’t broached the subject again. She was much friendlier towards me though.”

    Sybil nodded. “I’m glad it all got sorted.”

    “I really am sorry, though. You shouldn’t have had to be put through that.”

    “Sam, when I agreed to this arrangement, I knew that this might happen. It’s nothing for you to worry about. It’s sorted now, and at the end of the day I’m happy to put up with some awkward conversations if it means you’re happy.”

    He reached up and linked a hand with hers. “But what about you? Are _you_ happy?”

    She leaned down and kissed him. “Yes, dear, I’m very happy. It brings me such joy to see you the way you’ve been these past few weeks. It’s like some huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You’re more relaxed, and you laugh more, and you’re sleeping better.”

    “Just promise me that you’ll tell me if you ever change your mind? I never want this to cause you pain, love.”

    “I promise, Sam. Now, how about you get out of there so we can go to bed. I’ve missed you.”

    He grinned. “I’ve missed you too. I won’t be long.”

*

    Vimes was running as he made his way to the Palace several days later. He’d received an urgent summons from Vetinari, and yet the note wasn’t written in Drumknott’s neat cursive. The only reason he could think of was that something had happened to the clerk, and when he skidded into the waiting room to see an unfamiliar face sitting at Drumknott’s desk, Vimes’ heart clenched in fear. He didn’t even acknowledge the usurper, but rushed directly into the office.

    Vetinari looked up from behind his desk and raised an eyebrow at the panting Commander. “You got here here quickly.”

    “You said it was urgent. Where’s Drumknott? Has something happened to him?”  A strange look flickered over the Patrician’s face, one that Vimes hadn’t seen before. He couldn’t place it, but it didn’t seem to portray any overt anxiety or fear so he allowed himself to slump into the chair while he waited for an explanation. “What’s happened, sir?”

    “There’s no need for the ‘sir’, this is a personal matter,” Vetinari told him, straightening the piles of paperwork on his desk, and avoiding eye contact.

    Vimes frowned. “What’s going on?” He stood, and walked around the desk and knelt beside the thin man, placing his hand over his. “You’re making me worried. Is Drumknott alright?”

    Still unable to meet his gaze, Vetinari replied, “I assume so. He requested the day off.”

    “Did he say why he wanted the time off?” The clerk worked harder than almost anyone Vimes had ever met, and he knew that Vetinari wouldn’t begrudge the man a break. So what had happened that made the Patrician - a man who was not known to be shaken - so nonplussed? “Havelock, talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Please?”

    Vetinari smiled a little at the use of the first name, finally meeting his eyes and rubbed a finger over Vimes’ hand. “I think I’m being immeasurably silly.”

    “Silly?” Okay, this was starting to be concerning.

    “You have to realise that I’m not used to being so...attached. The past two years have been a rather new experience for me, and I didn’t think I’d feel this way.”

    “If you’re trying to tell me you’re in love with Rufus, there’s no need - it’s been obvious to me since the first time we were all together.” He reached up and cupped the side of the pale face. “Is this what’s bothering you? Are you feeling overwhelmed?"

    Vetinari shook his head. “No. As foreign as the feeling of being in love is to me, I have adapted quickly. No, what is bothering me is another emotion; one that I have even less experience with.”

    Vimes fought the urge to roll his eyes. The Patrician had never grasped the concept of being direct in a conversation. “What would that be?”

    He closed his eyes and said in a broken whisper, “Jealousy.”

    “Jealousy? Havelock, you need to understand that I’ll never come between you and Rufus. I promise that. I enjoy every moment that we’re all together, but I’d never-” He paused as a finger was brought up to his lips. Pale blue eyes opened to meet his and he swore he could see uncertainty there.

    “It’s not about you, Sam,” he said, causing a shiver to run down Vimes’ spine. “Never about you. It’s...Rufus is meeting up with an old... _friend_. He received word that this man would be in town for a couple of days and wanted to catch up, so Rufus requested the day off so he could show him about and go to dinner.”

    There was a reason that Vimes was a damn good policeman. “And this ‘friend’ is actually an old flame?”

    Vetinari nodded. “Edward O’Hern. I believe he was the most serious of Rufus’ relationships before his time here. He’s the one I believe taught Rufus some of those little tricks of his.”

    “Okay, so they’re going out to dinner. So what? You know that Rufus loves you. He’s not going to betray you, so there’s no need to be jealous.” The words sounded hollow even to his own ears. Vimes couldn’t deny that even he felt small tendrils of the emotion curling up in his own gut, especially thinking of their young clerk with his mouth wrapped around this mystery man’s cock.

    “I know that.” Vetinari grimaced. “This is most frustrating. Intellectually I know that nothing will happen. But part of me just wants to find this man and...inhume him.”

    Vimes sat up on his knees and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Before you start planning his assassination, maybe we should make sure that he fully deserves it, eh?”

    “You’re making fun of me,” the Patrician grumbled, and Vimes couldn’t help but laugh at how adorable it sounded (which was a descriptor he would never in a million years have thought to apply to the man before him).

    “Yeah, I am. A little bit.” He paused, giving it some thought. “Would it make you feel better if you knew exactly what was going on?”

    “I won’t betray his trust by sending dark clerks to spy on him,” Vetinari replied, his voice cold.

    Vimes shook his head. “Not what I was thinking. Do you know where they’re planning on going?”

    “They have a reservation at Le Séducteur des Hommes at 8pm.”

    “Interesting choice of place,” Vimes found himself growling.

    “Quite. Apparently O’Hern has heard great reviews of the food there and wanted to try it.”

    “Well, if the food is so good, perhaps we should give it a go. How about it, Havelock? Will you have dinner with me tonight?”

    “How is that any better than sending spies?”

    “If you think about it, it’s in this man’s best interests for us to attend. Otherwise he may be in danger of being bumped off. We’re technically protecting him.”

    “We may need protecting ourselves once Rufus sees us there.”

    “Well, about that. I mean, we wouldn’t want to set tongues waggling, would we? I mean, how would it look if the Patrician and the Commander of the Watch were seen at a romantic restaurant together? So to avoid any embarrassment, it might be prudent for us to disguise ourselves a little…”

    Vetinari grasped the front of his shirt and crushed their lips together. When they broke apart, he grinned. “Have I ever told you how much I love the way your mind works, Your Grace?”

    “You have not. I take it you’re on board then?”

    A nod. “Though I do hope we’re forgiven if we get caught.”

    “We’ll have to make sure we don’t get caught. Make sure to disguise yourself well. I’ll meet you back here in two hours?”

*

    Sam burst into the dragon pens, and ducked as a burst of flame rolled from the surprised dragon his wife was holding.

    “Sybil, I need the fanciest, most pompous outfit you can find me. I need to look like a right nob.”

    Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Sam! I thought you’d never ask. Come with me!”

*

    Not one single person recognised him as he returned to the Palace. Sybil had outdone herself this time. He had explained the situation and she became a willing co-conspirator, dismissing the ideas he’d had about a disguise, and coming up with a much better one. He’d thought a fake moustache and perhaps on of his official ducal outfits would be enough, but she disagreed. He needed to dress in something he had never before been seen in so there was no chance of being recognised. He had breathed a sigh of relief at this, quite happy to avoid the ducal tights.

    She pulled from the back of the wardrobe a fine Genuan suit, made of the blackest wool Vimes had ever seen. She called it a tuxedo and it was worn with a crisp white shirt and a black bow tie. Much to his dismay she had Willikins shave him, but it wasn’t his usual shave - when he looked in the mirror he saw his two day growth had been manicured into a fashionable shape, all thin lines and angles. She handed him a monocle and a top hat and as he took in his final appearance, he thought he looked like a pompous arse.

    Mission accomplished.

    The relief clerk had left for the evening when Vimes arrived so he let himself into the office. He had to do a double take when he saw Vetinari. The man had also shaved and gone was the trademark chin strap, his skin so pale anyway that there wasn’t even a tan line to show it had been there. He was dressed much the same as he usually was, in a fine suit, but it wasn’t black, but a charcoal grey bordering on dark blue. He had a light blue scarf tied around his neck, which made his eyes shine almost like sapphires. His legs were up on his desk, crossed at the ankles, and as he unfolded himself and stood up, Vimes followed his movements in appreciation.

    He had no idea how such subtle changes could have changed his appearance so dramatically. Maybe it was that this was the first time he’d ever seen him wear any colour other than black? Or was it the way he now moved? Vetinari had always been a graceful man, but he almost _strutted_ across the room to where Vimes stood. He was all confidence, and dripped sex appeal, and he _knew_ it. He linked his arms around the Commander’s neck and kissed him lazily, but sensuously, and Vimes started to think that maybe they should just stay in for the night. He was half hard by the time Vetinari pulled back from him, and he heard himself whine.

    “I take it you approve?” the Patrician asked.

    “You could say that. You look amazing.” He frowned. “Not that you don’t normally look good...because you do, well, I think so anyway, but I guess I’m just blown away by how _different_ you look.”

    An eyebrow arched over an amused expression. “I do believe that was the point, no?”

    “You know what I mean.”

    Vetinari chucked. “I do. You look great in a suit, Sam.”

    “Right, well, shall we go?” Vimes asked, unable to keep the blush from his cheeks.

    They left the Palace via a side exit and strolled through the city together, not wanting to draw attention by arriving in one of the Patrician’s carriages. It was cold, but the sky was clear and there was no rain about so it was a pleasant walk. Their breaths were mist on the air, and they spoke of small, unimportant matters as they walked. Vimes enjoyed it immensely and found himself wishing that they could do this for real sometime. The idea of going on a proper date with Vetinari and Drumknott, somewhere romantic was an idea that very suddenly appealed to him. He pushed the thought to the back of his mind to deal with later.

    They arrived at the restaurant and Vetinari gave the waiter the name of their reservation, and they were seated immediately. It was busy, but despite the number of people there, it was still quiet. It was the sort of place where one feels the need to murmur conversation, and where laughter of any sort was frowned upon. Vimes followed Vetinari’s gaze and saw that Drumknott and his friend were seated several tables away, next to the window.

    Drumknott was dressed in one of his usual three piece suits, but he looked to be in disguise as much as his lovers were. The serious expression he wore at the office was gone, and even the shyness that enveloped him in regular social settings was gone. In their place was the confidence and sureness that he had in the bedroom. His face was lit up as he spoke quietly, but expressively with his friend. There was a tinge of pink at his cheeks, and an empty wineglass at his hand, which was soon re-filled by an attentive waiter.

    Edward O’Hern was not at all what Vimes was expecting. He looked to be the same age as Drumknott and was a big man - broad and intimidating, with muscles that rippled clearly through his suit as he moved. His hair was cut short, almost to his scalp, and his eyes were locked on the clerk’s face. His expression could have been described as intense, and enraptured, but Vimes thought it looked somewhat predatory. “Rufus was with _him_?” he asked in disbelief.

    Vetinari pulled his gaze away from the two men, the scowl not leaving his face. “From what I understand he has undergone a bit of a transformation since they were at college together.”

    “Rufus told you that?”

    “Well, no...I may be opposed to setting spies upon Rufus, but I had no such qualms about using them to get information on Mr O’Hern.”

    The waiter came to take their drinks orders and Vimes settled for a lemonade. He was somewhat surprised when Vetinari ordered a glass of wine.

    “So what do you know about their time together?” Vimes asked, taking a sip of his drink.

    “Not a lot. Third party accounts mostly.” He glanced across at the table by the window again and a pained look crossed his face as he noticed that Drumknott was smiling broadly at O’Hern. “Rufus has told me very little, but from what I can gather, O’Hern had been forced to attend college by his parents, but he was not at all academic. He was failing horribly and was about to be kicked out. Rufus offered to help tutor him and his grades improved greatly. They became involved, but then after they finished college they ended it since Rufus was coming back here and O’Hern was going into an apprenticeship with his uncle.”

    “So they broke up because they didn’t want to do a long distance relationship?”

    “From, what I understand.”

    So that was why Vetinari was so concerned. Vimes doubted he’d be so worried if they’d had a terrible fight and Drumknott’s heart had been broken, but that wasn’t the case. The tendril of jealously in his stomach twitched and grew bigger. He too was concerned.

    Dinner was a quiet affair. Neither man spoke much, but they often cast their eyes across to the window. Drumknott and O’Hern grew more and more animated as they drank more wine, the sounds of their laughter reaching across the room. They ignored the looks other patrons gave them, and didn’t see the look of relief on the waiter’s face when they decided to head out to a club. Vimes paid their bill, and he and Vetinari left the restaurant to follow the two men at a discreet distance.

    The establishment that O’Hern led Drumknott too was on the edge of the entertainment district, still busy, but in a slightly rough area. Vimes’ eyes narrowed as they entered, knowing that it had a seedy reputation. He and Vetinari found a table in a quiet corner and he got the tall man another drink. The Patrician was becoming more and more morose as the evening wore on, and there was real pain in his eyes as Drumknott and O’Hern took to the dance floor.

    “Hey,” Vimes said, touching his hand. “Try not to worry. Rufus is just having fun catching up. He spends so much time with old blokes like us that he needs to let his hair down with someone his own age every now and then.”

    “What if he decides that O’Hern can give him more than I can? What if he wants to try picking up where they left off?”

    It was dark in the corner where they sat, and Vimes leant across and brushed a kiss to the frown on Vetinari’s lips. He wasn’t bothered by people seeing him kiss another man, especially here, but he didn’t know how his lover felt about it. “I very much doubt that is the case. Don’t go borrowing trouble.”

    “It worries me, Sam.”

    “I know, but it’ll all be okay. You know that whatever happens, you’ll still have me, right?” He’d meant to say it just to reassure the man, but found himself meaning every word. It was getting close to the point where Vimes was going to have to acknowledge that he’d grown attached, but now wasn’t quite the time.

    Blues eyes met his, and they were filled with tenderness. “I do,” Vetinari whispered, and took his hand, giving it a squeeze.

    “I’m going to go and get more drinks,” Vimes told him, rubbing a thumb across his knuckles. “I’ll be back soon.” Vetinari hadn’t finished his wine yet, but Vimes had seen Drumknott and his friend leave the dance floor and head to the bar, and he wanted to see if he could gauge how their night was going. He slipped through the crowd, and stood just behind the two younger men. Drumknott’s face was flushed from dancing, and his hair was mussed from where he’d pushed it off his sweaty brow. His body was thrumming in time to the music, and he looked so vibrant and energetic that Vimes had to force himself to stop from shoving him against the bar and kissing him right then and there.

    “You’ve still got all the right moves, Rufus,” O’Hern said to him. He’d leaned close to be heard over the music, but he was much closer than needed and Vimes’ eyes narrowed.

    Drumknott laughed. “I don’t get out much these days. I’m surprised I remember how to dance.”

    “It sounds like you spend too much time working. You need to get out more, meet people.”

    “Don’t worry about me, I’ve met all the people I need to.”

    O’Hern shook his head. “You know what I mean. You need someone to take care of you, someone to look after you.” There was definitely a hint there that he would be happy to be that person. Vimes’ hand curled into a fist instinctively.

    “Who’s to say that I don’t already?” Drumknott asked, a twinkle in his eye.

    O’Hern looked skeptical. “You’ve spent all night talking about work and haven’t mentioned anyone at all. Don’t try to brush me off with white lies.”

    The smile fell from the clerk’s face. “I’m not lying, Ed. I’ve been seeing a wonderful man for two years.”

    “Mustn’t be the jealous type if he lets you come out with your old boyfriend,” O’Hern said, and Vimes almost burst out laughing.

    “He’s not exactly possessive,” Drumknott told him.

    “What’s that mean?” O’Hern asked, and Vimes could see he thought he was going to get lucky tonight.

    “It means that there’s someone else as well. They both make me very happy.” Rufus smiled, and Vimes felt a warm glow spread through him as the clerk all but admitted he had grown attached as well.

    “Well, well, well, sounds like it’s a challenge to keep you satisfied. Maybe later we could -”

    The bartender reached them before O’Hern could finish his proposal, but Vimes felt confident that Drumknott would put him in his place. He made his way down the bar and ordered another wine and lemonade. He took the drinks back to their tables and leaned over his depressed companion and murmured into his ear, “Rufus just told the creep that he’s taken. Said that he’s with a wonderful man. Told you not to worry.” He pressed a kiss to the shell of his ear and then sat down.

    Vetinari smiled at him, his eyes lighting up. He then grimaced. “You must think me a fool.”

    “Not at all. I must admit, I was a little worried there for a while too. But it honestly seems like Rufus just wanted to catch up with an old friend.”

    “Thank you, Sam. For doing this for me.” His look grew serious. “There’s no one else I could ever have trusted with this. It means a lot to me that you offered be here for me tonight.”

    Vimes smiled and raised his drink. “Anytime. Here’s to us, and our Rufus.” He clinked his glass against Vetinari’s.

    “To us,” the assassin replied.

    They finished their drinks, and then got more. Vimes kept one eye on Drumknott but the clerk seemed to be keeping out of trouble. Vetinari relaxed as the night got later, and he drank more wine. Vimes had heard that the Patrician was unable to get drunk, but he had evidence that this was untrue. He may not act like a typical drunk after a few wines, but he most definitely was affected. His eyes were bright, and he smiled much more than usual. His speech grew less formal, and he spoke more often. Subtle changes, but they proved he was human after all.

    It was getting very late when Vetinari downed the remainder of his wine and pinned Vimes with a smouldering glare. “We’re leaving now,” he said, leaning close to Vimes’ ear, his breath hot. “There are too many people here for me to do to you what I want to do to you.”

    They stood and made their way through the throng, Vetinari walking close behind Vimes, his body brushing up against his every few steps. Vimes’ eyes swept the club but he couldn’t see Drumknott or O’Hern in the crowd. He felt a slender hand cup his arse as they paused to allow a waiter to go past with a tray full of glasses, and he swallowed hard. They eventually made their way to one of the exits of the busy club and found themselves in a back alley behind the building. As soon as the door slammed shut, Vetinari grabbed Vimes and pushed him against the wall, kissing him hard.

    Vimes settled his hands on the slim hips and returned the kiss, his tongue brushing against Vetinari’s lower lip, tasting the wine in his mouth. He moaned as he felt the buttons on his jacket undone and a hand slipped under his shirt, warm against his stomach.

    They continued to kiss, hungry and needy, and Vimes allowed his hands to roam across the lithe body in front of him. He felt his trousers get tight and he slipped a leg in between Vetinari’s, feeling the answering hardness against his hip. He reached down and grabbed at the firm arse of his lover, and Vetinari frotted against his thigh.

    “Disguises or not, we’re a bit exposed here,” Vimes managed to say after the door had slammed open and group of people walked past them down the alley.

    Vetinari kissed along his jaw and nibbled at his ear. “I suppose you’re right.”

    They both saw the darker alleyway further down and they stumbled towards it, stopping to kiss each other every few steps, the alcohol making Vetinari much less pragmatic than usual. Vimes grinned to himself as he figured there would be no careful folding of clothes and meticulous preparation during this dalliance. They reached the mouth of the alleyway and Vetinari shoved Vimes inside and back up against the wall. He undid the buttons on Vimes’ trousers and pulled them down as he knelt before him.

    Vimes moaned as the wet heat of Vetinari’s mouth closed around him. He wondered for a brief moment if perhaps they shouldn’t be doing this without Drumknott, but all along they’d been happy to play in pairs if the third wasn’t available. It was a definite possibility that this was a knee jerk reaction to Vetinari’s feelings of jealousy but he couldn’t deal with that right now. The way the man was breaking him down one lick and suck at a time was making it too hard to think.

    There was a sound from the other end of the alley and both men paused. Vimes strained his ears, on instant alert. The sound came again, and it sounded definitely like the sound of a fist hitting skin, followed by a whimper. Barely a moment later, Vimes was tucked away and Vetinari was on his feet. They moved on silent feet into the gloom, eyes searching the far reaches of the alley.

    They moved around a bend and came across the source of the noise. There was a man on his knees, and standing above him, his fist raised was a larger man, his other hand gripping the front of the kneeling man’s suit. Before Vimes’ eyes could even register the details, Vetinari had moved, darting across the distance between them, all traces of alcohol consumption gone. He sprung at the large man, and in the blink of an eye he was behind the man with a knife to his throat. “If you ever lay another finger on him, then you will surely be meeting your maker.”

    Vimes ran to help the victim and recoiled in shock as he realised it was Drumknott. He helped him to his feet, an arm protectively around him. The clerk wiped at his mouth with his sleeve, wiping away the blood that was dripping down his chin. “Rufus, are you okay?” Vimes asked, his voice full of concern.

    A short nod. “I’m okay, Sam.”

    Vimes led him across to the wall and helped him lean against it. He cupped a hand to his cheek, and brushed a kiss to his lips. “Stay here for a moment?” Drumknott nodded and Vimes turned and stalked across to the man that was being held in Vetinari’s grasp. “What the fuck were you playing at?” he demanded, grabbing O’Hern’s shirt and shaking him. The knife was still pressed close to his throat, and thin lines of red started to trickle down his skin.

    The man sneered, despite being at a distinct disadvantage. “Just taking what’s mine,” he spat.

    “Yours?” Vetinari growled, the knife pressing closer still. “Rufus does not belong to you.” His arms were taut with exertion as he held the larger man in his vice like grip, tendons popping under the surface of his skin.

    “Oh, now it makes sense. He’s your play thing, is he? And I’m guessing his as well.” His eyes flicked to Vimes.

    “He doesn’t belong to anyone but himself,” Vimes snarled. “You just thought you could take what you wanted?”

    “I was taking what I was owed.”

    “And how exactly do you figure that he owes you anything?”

    “We have a history. What’s once more for old time’s sake?”

    Vimes’ eyes flickered to Vetinari and he saw the minute nod. He smashed his fist into the man’s stomach, and his breath whooshed from his lungs. “That’s for being an arrogant arse.” He punched the man again. “And that was because I don’t like you.” He brought his knee up and connected with the man’s privates, relishing in the sound the man made. “And _that_ was for Rufus.”

    Vetinari shoved the man towards the alley exit, and loomed over him, knife glinting in the dim light. “Get out of my city and never show your face again. If you do, I will know, and it will be the last thing you ever do.”

    O’Hern looked like he was going to sneer again but he caught sight of the deadly look in Vetinari’s eyes. Vimes knew he was teetering on the edge, fighting the urge to kill the man right now, and at this very moment he felt his own rage fighting to get free and join him. The man stood and stumbled from the alley.

    Vetinari stood and watched until he was gone, and then turned and crossed to where Drumknott was leaning against the wall. “Rufus?” he asked, his voice gentle. “Are you hurt?”

    The clerk didn't answer but threw himself into Vetinari’s arms. “I’m so sorry, Havelock. I was just walking him back to his hotel. He got mad when I wouldn’t return his advances.” He was close to tears, and he trembled against the strong arms that held him.

    “Shhh, it’s okay, Rufus. You’re safe now. We’re here.”

    “I’m so sorry, so sorry,” he whimpered.

    “You have nothing to be sorry for, love. This wasn’t your fault.”

    Vimes stood back, giving them space until his eyes met Vetinari’s. He was definitely getting to grips with the silent language because he understood the look immediately. _Get over here_ it said. He crossed to them and wrapped his arms about both of them. Drumknott clutched at his arm, and they stood in their threeway embrace, waiting until the young man stopped shaking.


	8. Punishment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They get Rufus back to the safety of the palace but he has a few words for his lovers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After a horribly long hiatus (we are SO sorry) this fic is now complete! We hope you'll enjoy!

They walked back to the palace in silence, making their way through back alleys and lesser known streets since Vimes had lost his monocle and tophat during the confrontation with O’Hern. He probably still wouldn’t be recognised with only a glance but he looked enough like himself that they didn’t want to take any chances. If someone  _ did _ recognise him then they might take a closer look at his companions and the last thing Drumknott needed was to be seen in such a state.

They made their way back to Vetinari’s rooms, though by now they could almost justifiably be called  _ Vetinari and Drumknott’s _ rooms. Drumknott didn't officially reside there but most of his clothes were tucked away neatly in one of the drawers and his favourite books were stacked on the book case. The cleaning staff were smart enough to never comment to anyone on what they saw when they were in there, since they were unaware of the fact that the scorpion pit no longer held its namesake. If they came across a shirt that was too narrow for Vetinari’s shoulders, or boxer briefs in a colour other than black, well they just had to put it down to one of those odd facts of life and moved on. 

Vimes immediately went to the bathroom and filled a bowl with warm water and fetched a washcloth, then he returned and sat the younger man down and began to gently clean his face of blood and grime. Drumknott grimaced as the cloth was run over his split lip but didn't otherwise make a fuss, accepting the kiss his nursemaid pressed to the undamaged side of his mouth afterwards. While Vimes had been attending to their lover, Vetinari had been pacing the room, his usual cool demeanor nowhere in sight. He was muttering under his breath, and his eyes darted constantly to the door.

“Havelock,” Drumknott said in a very calm manner, “stop pacing and come here.”

Vimes returned the basin to the bathroom, returning to see Vetinari accept the hand held out to him and allowed himself to be tugged down to sit next to the clerk. The Commander joined them, sitting on the other side of Drumknott, hiding a yawn behind his palm after the exhausting events of the evening.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Drumknott said to Vetinari.

“Oh?” the tall man said, distracted as his eyes once more were drawn to the door.

“Yes, I do. You’re regretting letting Ed go and are thinking you can track him down before he leaves the city.”

Vimes would bet his son’s considerable college fund that this was indeed the case, and the slightly chastised look that flickered across the Patrician’s face confirmed it. “Perhaps I was,” he said mildly, belying the anger he clearly felt. “What of it?”

“I’m not going to let you do that,” Drumknott stated. “In fact, we’re going to forget all about Edward O’Hern.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Vimes asked. “He’s dangerous, Rufus and perhaps we  _ did _ make a mistake in letting him go.”

“No, the only mistake that you made was following me in the first place.”

Vimes gaped at him and even Vetinari’s face twitched in surprise. “What?” he choked out.

Drumknott turned to look at Vimes and his expression was stern. “You have both breached my privacy tonight which is unacceptable.”

“But if we hadn't followed you, who knows what that bastard would have done!” the Commander protested.

“I’m not entirely defenceless, Sam,” the clerk told him. “Yes, I could benefit from some lessons from both of you but one doesn’t work here in the palace without picking up a few things.”

“Yes, but surely us being there was better than not?”

“Sam, what happened with Ed is beside the point - yes I am grateful that you stopped him, but at the end of the day you both betrayed my trust and  _ followed me _ , like I was some kind of criminal you were detailing. Do you have any idea of how that makes me feel?”

“We only wanted to keep you safe!”

The younger man raised an eyebrow and Vimes squirmed under his gaze. “That is an untruth, Your Grace.” The use of his title told Vimes that Drumknott was more than a little pissed off. “You had no reason to suspect Ed of doing what he did. No, you were there tonight for different reasons. Care to tell me what they were?” The Disc’s two most powerful men avoided his eyes and couldn't reply. “Right, well, do you want to tell me whose idea it was to follow me in the first place?” 

Vetinari raised his hand and said, more meekly than Vimes ever thought he would hear him, “It was mine, Rufus.”

The blonde nodded. “I see. I’m guessing you were jealous?”

“Yes, Rufus.”

The clerk gave the Patrician a brief fond smile which quickly fell from his lips. “Have I ever given you any reason to be jealous, Havelock?”

The tall man shook his head mutely.

“And yet you seemed to think that as soon as I was out of your sight, I would bed the first man I saw?”

“What? No!” Vetinari exclaimed. “It was because of your history with him!”

“A history that I’ve never gone into detail with you about. You had your dark clerks look into him, into us, didn't you?”

Vetinari looked miserable that he’d been caught out. “I’m sorry, Rufus.”

The young man huffed out a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You thought me so lowly as that?”

“Of course not. You know that I love you.”

“But do you trust me?”

The question hung in the air between them, the atmosphere charged with tension. “With my life,” Vetinari said vehemently, his eyes locked with Drumknott’s.

A grin broke out over the younger man’s face. “Excellent, because you’ve been a naughty boy and need to be punished.”

Vimes had been watching the exchange between them, worried that it would all go Hubward and all they had between them would be destroyed. His mouth dropped open at this latest development and he gaped at his lovers. “Wait, what?”

Drumknott turned to him and arced a delicate brow. “You too, Sam. Havelock says that it was his idea but I have a feeling that it was actually  _ yours _ . Even if not though, you were complicient so you need to pay the price as well.”

“What exactly do you mean by that?”

“It means,” Drumknott said in a low growl, leaning in close so his breath was hot against Vimes’ ear, “that you need to strip. Right now.”

“But -”

“ _ Do as I say! _ ”

“Yes, Rufus.”

The two men stood and quickly disrobed, and Vimes was surprised to find himself half hard already. Drumknott lounged back on the bed, propped up on his elbows to watch them through heavy lidded eyes. Once they were fully naked, they stood before him and Vimes fought the urge to stand at attention. The clerk seemed to sense this and he smiled lazily. “At ease, boys.” He stood then, moving to circle them, reaching a hand out to trail lightly over their skin. Goosebumps broke out over Vimes’ skin at the sensation, and he shivered in pleasure. “Havelock, your safeword will be  _ moules,  _ and Sam, yours will be  _ welchet. _ ” He stopped behind the Commander and an arm circled him from behind, rubbing over the scattering of chest hair between his nipples. The younger man nibbled at his ear lobe and then asked, “Do you know what a safe word is, Sam?”

He nodded, familiar with the term from one of the more risque bodice rippers that Sibil had regaled him with, but he’d never had need to use one before. He shivered once more but this time it was tinged slightly with anxiety.

“Shhh, it’s okay, pet,” Drumknott purred. “I’ll take good care of you. It’s only for emergencies.”

Swallowing hard, Vimes nodded. He felt a finger twine with his pinky and he glanced down to see that it belonged to Vetinari. The Patrician seemed well versed in this kind of play, and he clearly enjoyed it if his steadily leaking cock was any indication. Nothing that Sam had shared with his lovers up until this point had been uncomfortable or horrible, even when he’d worked himself up into a bit of a state over it (like when he’d bottomed for the first time) and so he decided to take a leap of faith and trust them. Rufus had said that this was to be some kind of punishment, but the Duke of Ankh had a feeling that he’d end up thinking of it as a reward.

“On your knees,” Drunknott barked suddenly and instantly the two men dropped to the floor. “Excellent, my pets. Now, Havelock, I want you on all fours, sucking Sam off.”

The tall man hurried to comply and Vimes moaned as he felt the wet heat envelop the head of his prick. He reached out to curl a hand into the man’s hair but his hands were grabbed and forced behind him. “You may touch only when I tell you to touch,” Drumknott told him. 

He nodded and then reeled as he was slapped across his face. It wasn’t hard - in fact it hardly stung at all - but the shock of it had him staring wide eyed up at his lover.

“I expect a reply when I speak to you,” Havelock told him, grabbing his chin roughly and tilting his head up to the light. “You are to address me as ‘sir’, is that understood.”

“Yes, sir,” Vimes said dutifully, turning to nuzzle his face against the warm palm. 

“Good boy.” Havelock let him go and then moved until he was on the floor next to Vetinari who was still suckling Vimes’ cock enthusiastically. “I think twenty is called for, don’t you?” the clerk asked.

Vetinari nodded as best he could with his mouth full and mumbled, “Yes, sir,” around it, which was lucky because if Drumknott had been speaking to him, Vimes had no idea what he was talking about.

The blonde put his hands on Vetinari’s torso and maneuvered him around until he was still on his hands and knees but was now hunched over Drumknott’s lap. “Since Havelock has his mouth full, would you be a dear and count for us?” he asked Vimes sweetly.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Vimes said, still not understanding what was happening. And then Rufus raised his hand, palm flat, and brought it down in a stinging slap onto Vetinari’s arse. His eyes widened as he understood and he said in a shaky voice, “One.”

Vetinari grunted at each slap, which at times had Vimes wincing. Drumknott was not gentle and although he alternated the cheeks he smacked, large red marks were blooming over the pale skin. It had to hurt, and yet the more it continued, the more Vetinari began to writhe. Vimes was no stranger to pain but he could say unequivocally that he had never  _ enjoyed _ it before. The slap Rufus had delivered to him had done nothing to his cock and he hoped that his lover wouldn’t dole out the same punishment to him as he was to Vetinari.

By the time they reached twenty, Vetinari’s entire body was quivering and he seemed to be having trouble staying upright. His mouth had gone lax around Vimes’ cock and his body rocked forward with each strike, pushing him down the shaft, but otherwise he wasn’t actively blowing him anymore. Vimes hardly cared, he was too busy watching Vetinari with concern. Drumknott caressed over his back, soothing the red patches of skin and cooing to the Patrician, “It’s okay, Havelock, you can rest for now. Come on, lay down on me, it’s alright.”

The man collapsed down immediately, and he didn't seem to be  _ present _ . “What’s happened to him?” Vimes asked, wiping away a strand of saliva that was still connecting his dick to Vetinari’s mouth.

“He’s gone into subspace,” Drumknott explained, stroking gently over Vetinari’s cheek. “We don't do this often, and the first time we did it the other way round, but Havelock asked me once after a particularly trying session with the Guild leaders if he could sub for me. I freaked out when he dropped into subspace the first time, had no idea what was happening. When I got him back he was so...blissed out. Said it was the most relaxed he’d ever been.”

Vimes looked skeptical. “You did  _ that _ to him just from a spanking?”

Drumknott shrugged. “It’s more about the trust really, which is why I suggested this tonight.” He blushed and looked slightly ashamed. “He...what you two did tonight...well, it made me feel like I was some sort of, I don’t know, a delinquent of some kind, like Havelock couldn't trust me at all and you had to keep tabs on me. I guess it made me question that trust. This is the ultimate test - him allowing himself to fall like this shows that he trusts me explicitly. It’s assuring me that tonight was just a mistake on his part, that he does have faith in me.”

“Rufus, he was just jealous. Everyone - even the Patrician - can fall into that trap from time to time. It doesn’t mean he doesn't trust you.”

“I know, I do, I swear. It’s just, I needed some kind of reassurance I suppose. Besides,” he said as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to the tall man’s temple, “he enjoys this. I’m not just doing it for me. He needs it too.”

“Do...do you want me to go?” Sam asked, waving at the door, feeling like he was intruding on something private.

“Of course not!” Drumknott was quick to say. “Sam, I can see this doesn't do anything for you, and that’s okay - it’s not for everyone, but I want you here, and I know Havelock does too.”

“I just don't want to ruin anything.”

“You won’t, you never could. Come here. Kiss me? Please?” It was a request, not a demand and it was one that Vimes was more than happy to fill. They shared sweet kisses, Vetinari lying between them, nuzzling his face against Drumknott’s stomach. “Should I get him to finish what he started?” Rufus asked after they broke apart.

“Um, I don’t know if I’d feel comfortable with that,” Vimes admitted. “I just don’t feel like he can consent in this state. Is he actually cognisant?”

“Not really, no. But he gave consent when we started, Sam, and I would never make him do anything that I know he wouldn’t want to do. If you weren’t here for the start and then came in after he had spaced, well, that would be different.”

“I guess I just would feel like I was using him,” he admitted. “This is your thing with him, not mine. I won’t take advantage of that.”

“That’s fair enough. How about I take care of Havelock then and you take care of me?”

Relaxing at the suggestion, Vimes nodded. “Yeah, that I can do.”

Rufus pulled him into a fierce kiss, fucking Sam’s mouth with his tongue, making his cock stand back up to attention. “I want you in me, Sam,” he panted as he pulled back. He then gently rolled Vetinari onto his back on the rug and kneeled in front of him, his pert arse in the air right in front of Vimes.

“Bugger me,” Sam swore, drinking in the sight.

“No, bugger  _ me _ ,” the clerk said, wiggling his bottom enticingly.

The Commander laughed and reached up onto the shelf to grab the lubricant. “You’re incorrigible,” he told his lover.

“That’s why you love me,” Drumknott quipped.

Vimes stilled.  _ Yes, yes I do _ he thought, but forced the words to stay down, not at all ready yet to speak them out loud. Rufus ducked his head down and began to lick and lap at Vetinari’s cock and the Patrician moaned loudly. It was that unusual sound from the normally silent man that pulled Vimes from his daze and he moved, coating his cock generously with the lotion. They’d all been fucking so much lately that there wasn't much need for lengthy prep and he trailed his slick finger along Drumknott’s crack, slipping the digit easily inside, coating him with the gel. As the blonde man swallowed Havelock down to the root, Sam pushed himself forward, sinking into that tight, hot, canal. All three moaned simultaneously and then Vimes and Drumknott found a rhythm that worked, the Commander thrusting forward, which in turn caused Vetinari’s cock to slide further down Drumknott’s throat. Besides moans, gasps, and the wet slapping of skin on skin, no one spoke, they all just concentrated on taking pleasure from one another. 

Vetinari cried out first, spilling his load down the younger man’s throat and at the look of sheer bliss on his face, Vimes felt less uncomfortable about the man’s state of mind. Drumknott was busy working his own cock with one hand and Vimes shifted his hips, lifting up one leg so he could thrust in deeper, trying to find that special spot. Rufus suddenly cried out and he pushed himself back, impaling himself on Vimes’ cock, chasing that spot again and again. Unable to hold back, Vimes gripped his hips and pistoned his pelvis, his balls slapping against the pale arse of the clerk. At the first contraction of Rufus’ muscles around his length, Sam felt his balls tighten and he shot his load deep inside the blonde, the first time he’d experienced an orgasm at exactly the same time as one of his lovers.

They slumped down against each other, Vimes spooning Drumknott from behind, and Vetinari tucked up against the younger man. Rufus spoke continuously to Vetinari, soft words accompanied by soft touches and eventually the words the tall man spoke gained more and more coherence. “You back with me, love?” Drumknott asked after a while.

“Mmm, yeah, I’m back,” Vetinari murmured. “Was so good, thank you, dear.” He paused and lifted himself to look around. “Oh, good, you’re still here, Sam. I was worried you’d go.”

Giving his head a small shake at how well the man knew him, Vimes smiled. “No, I’m still here. Couldn't miss out on all the fun now, could I?   
“Fun?” Drumknott asked. “It was supposed to be a punishment.”

“Oh, yes, right you are.”

Rufus laughed and twisted his head to kiss Sam, and then he sighed and closed his eyes. “I don’t want you to go,” he said quietly, and Vimes knew he was speaking to him since it was so late.

It had been getting harder and harder for Vimes to leave his two lovers recently. Although he loved Sibil, he spent every night with her and he longed to be able to curl up with these two remarkable men and fall asleep, and then  _ stay _ asleep until morning. Luckily, his wonderful wife knew him better than he even knew himself and could see how he felt. Before he had left that evening, she had pointedly told him that she didn't expect him home until the next morning. “The only place I’m going to tonight, Rufus, is the bed with you two.”

“Really?” the younger man asked in surprise.

“Really. Now how about we relocate? I’m sticky and my back is sore and I’m  _ very _ tired.”

They climbed to their feet, and Sam cursed his aging body as he saw how easy it was for Drumknott to get up and about after shagging on the floor. They shared a washcloth and cleaned themselves off, and then Drumknott magically expanded the bed. Not even thinking twice anymore about being swallowed whole by the bed, Vimes climbed onto it and held open his arms. Vetinari climbed into them and Rufus snuggled up to him on the other side once he’d extinguished the lights. 

Darkness settled in around them like a comfortable blanket and Vimes yawned widely, then sank a little further down into the mattress. “Sam?” Vetinari murmured, snuggling into his chest.

“Mmm?”

“I love you.”

Drumknott squeezed him around the waist from behind and nuzzled against his neck. “I love you, too, Sam.”

“And I love you both as well,” he told them, finally admitting what he felt. “Now would you two bastards shut up and let me get some sleep?”

Vetinari chuckled and Drumknott said, rather cheekily, “Yes, sir,” and Vimes just smiled, closing his eyes and allowing sleep to claim him. 

  
  



End file.
